Moonstruck
by Ididntdoit07
Summary: After escaping Arkham, the Joker loses his memory. Bruce Wayne takes the Joker into his own confinement, where the two learn they are not so different and the story unfolds as the cat and mouse are caught in a trap neither of them can forget.Slash
1. Prologue

Title: Moonstruck

Rating: M

Summary: After escaping Arkham, the Joker is injured and his memory is lost. Bruce Wayne takes the Joker into his own confinement, where the two learn they are not so different and the story unfolds as one of the most formidable love stories captures the cat and mouse in a trap neither of them can forget.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or the Dark Knight, and special thanks to Miz. Jynx who originally had the idea for amnesia, so read her story too! Enjoy!_

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**Arkham Asylum**

**Tuesday, September 23**

"_What are you looking at, freak?"_

"_Careful, he might pull a knife out on you." _

"_Scoggins, stop joking around, that guy is giving me the creeps."_

"_Stop being such a pussy, that guy can't do anything to you. He's locked in there and separated by a layer of glass and reinforced titanium bars. The most he can do is pester you."_

_David Crofford and his partner stood outside the hull keeping the anonymous mastermind imprisoned. The staff member shook his mess of red hair from underneath the white cap he wore, part of the uniform. Being over thirty years of age and an occasional on and off alcoholic, Brightton was growing weary of his nightshifts at the Asylum. As if keeping guard on crazies was vexatious enough, he had to deal with them and their incessant needs. _

_He rolled his eyes and turned to stare in the glass to see the prisoner still staring right at him, grinning from ear to ear. Then Crofford thought to himself. _'Is it the scars or is he really smiling at me?'

_The other patrol, Ethan Scoggins, slapped his friend on the back. "It's fine, man. Don't worry about him, he's just crazy."_

_He turned as well to stare at the Joker, helpless and imprisoned. His hands were chained by cuffs to the wall. Enough to let him move around, but not enough to leave the cell. The white grease paint on his face was almost rubbed away, his scars more visible without a the thick layer of lipstick. Greasy hair, where he was only given one chance a week to take a shower. _

_They had taken his clothes away, his trademark violet suit and even his socks, shoes and gloves. The knives and weapons were of course confiscated. The only thing he had left of himself was the makeup, a deck of playing cards, and white breeches along with a matching white shirt given to him by the staff. That way, with no pockets, he could not conceal any weapons very easily. The only things he had inside the cell was a mattress, sheet, pillow, toilet and plates that they had served him the disgusting food on. He had not touched any of the food since he arrived, managing to lose about 20lbs. _

_He hated the place more than anything, and hated the Batman for sentencing him to Arkham. If there was such thing as hell on earth, that would be it. _

_He knew what Crofford did when he was sedated. He knew where the nightmares came from. Not nightmares that scared him, nightmares that sent him out for vengeance. _

_Planning, with all hellfire burning in his eyes. But he was not angry or upset. He was awaiting the time where he could take the chance. _

_But he just sat there, like he was observing a documentary on the Discovery Channel. And he was smirking at them, staring them both in the eye with his poisonous glare. He knew exactly what he was doing, gaining power over them just by a simple staring contest. _

_A small bell rang, catching everyone, except for the Joker, off guard._

_Crofford knocked his knuckles on the glass, yelling in. "It's medicine time, fuck-face." He laughed a little and backed away from the cell to walk down the hall, disappearing for a second._

_Scoggins watched as Crofford went to fetch the medicine, and kept his eye on the clown, who never moved his gaze. The young guard hated his job, and he did feel a bit of condolence towards the Joker. _

_Speak of the devil, Crofford was marching back down the hallway with a handful of unopened syringes and a stuffed pocket in his apron with vials of the drugs to administer to the patients. _

_The Joker stared down at the syringe in the redhead's chapped palms._

_Thorazine._

_Having been imprisoned in the asylum for three weeks, the RN would come in every night at 8:00PM to administer 30CCs of thorazine. The drug had been used for sixty years to treat mentally ill patients. The injected drug would neutralize manic episodes and ease schizophrenia in order to keep the patients under control and eventually draw the line between insane and recovering. _

_The Joker was used to the ritual. Crofford or West, one of the nurses, would come into the sealed off area he now called "home" and one would hold the psychopath down as they stabbed the needle into his body and injected the drug, that would also double as a sedative. _

_Crofford stared at his friend, "Watch my back." He ordered, before scanning his ID card into a slot on the door. It made a loud buzzing sound, as it unlocked and the two men walked into the room with the deadliest man in Gotham. _

_The Joker had no weapons on him, and lacked the capabilities to fight both men upon having no food or nutrition to his diet. Hating to admit it, he was weak. He had become just a regular patient in the asylum._

_The redhead circled around the Joker and waited for Scoggins to hold the man down while he extracted the clear fluid from a little vial. _

"_Easy, easy." The Joker spoke in a fluid tone, having his left arm snatched by the man sitting on top of him now. He complied easier than expected._

_Crofford slipped the little glass vial back into one of his apron pockets and pushed the air out of the syringe, causing a little of the liquid to seep out of the hypodermic needle. The Joker eyed the silver needle as the men brought his arm up and then pierced the bruised artery in the man's arm. _

_He injected the clear drug into the Joker and quickly removed the needle, almost breaking it off in the man's skin. _

_Scoggins let the patient go, and stood as he and his colleague watched as the Joker's hazy eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out quickly from the sedative. _

"_Really, man. I have no idea what you worry about anymore. The guy's as harmful as a kitten." Scoggins muttered as he turned to leave and pulled his ID card out of his neckline, hanging on a necklace. He scanned it and let himself out as the door buzzed._

_Crofford stood over the Joker's unconscious form, lost in his own little world._

"_You comin' or not?" The other man asked, waiting at the door for his friend. He smacked the gum between his teeth._

_Redhead stared over at Scoggins and muttered, "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."_

_Scoggins got the idea and chuckled to himself as he walked off._

_He knew Crofford was an odd character, to say the least. The man like to romp around with the patients, taking advantage of them in their loopy state. He had done it many times before to the Joker, which was most likely the reason behind the glares and uneasiness when the murderer was aware of the redhead. _

_He leaned down to the floor where the unconscious Joker was, and tapped the crazy's face. Nothing. Crofford then grabbed the bruised wrist and held it up, and let it go. It smacked back down on the cold floor. Nothing._

_Smiling, Crofford then leaned up and began to unbuckle his pants. "I know you're not fully out, you don't have to fake it." He chuckled and pulled out his member, already erect. He turned back to the Joker._

_Who was inches from his face, pressing a needle against the guard's throat. _

_The Joker smiled wearily, with fire burning through his enraged eyes. "I'm gonna tell on yooooouuu…" He trailed off with a slight slur. Before Crofford had time to react, the Joker sucked in a full syringe of air and stabbed it into redhead's bubbling jugular. _

"_N-no--!!"_

_He was cut short by the immediate hemorrhaging that wracked his large form. Almost instantly, the redhead's body fell to the floor. _

_The green haired villain swayed on his bare feet, staring down at the man who had been abusing him for the past few weeks._

_His lip twitched and he leaned down to check the man's pulse. _

_There was none._

_---_

_Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as Scarecrow, sat in the corner of his holding cell, staring off into space as he waited for his medicine to be brought to him. His blue eyes scanned over the others in his vicinity. Through his cage he could see the murderers, rapists, and pedophiles in the wing. He sighed, bored to death. _

_His lips twitched and he parted them to speak, "Once I get out, Batman… I'm going to kill you." The Scarecrow told himself, part of the schizophrenia that had possessed his easy brain. _

_Starting to bite his nails, he saw a reflection in his spoon. And twisted around to see his nurse._

"_Oh… good evening." Crane greeted him._

_The white-clad man outside of his cell scanned the ID card and slid open the door to the sound of the buzzer. The nurse was wobbly on his feet, and snatched something from his back pocket where something jingled. _

_Keys. _

_The blue eyes widened in realization that the nurse was taking off the cuffs that kept him chained to the room. "Is this a new schedule?" He asked, clueless as to why the nurse was letting his hands free. _

"_You have been discharge_**d**_…" The nurse slurred, putting a staccato ending to his words. He looked up to meet Crane's eyes. "On your own accord." _

"_You…" was the only thing the Scarecrow could mutter. _

_Under the white cap and nurse clothing was the devil himself, smiling through the red lipstick smeared on his face. He rustled with the keys, losing coordination from the drug's effect. He licked his lips and fit the key into the slot on the shackles, and twisted, letting the pressure off of Crane's wrists._

_The Joker pushed the shackles away and stumbled out of the cell, with the confused Jonathan Crane coming after him. The felons in the other cells screamed and begged for the 'nurse' to them free. _

_The two ignored the demands. _

"_I heard a rumor that you were in here, Joker. I thought you were dead."_

_The one who had set him free made no response. The only thing he was focused on was getting out and then passing out in a safe haven. He noticed the pain in the younger man's dark eyes, and the sweat on his brow. _

_The Joker panted, fighting the drug to stay awake. _

"_Y-you okay?" Crane asked. No, it was not concern in his voice, more of: 'what's wrong with you? You look like shit.'_

_No answer._

_He yanked on the doctor's arm._

"_Hey, wait-- the exit is that way!" Crane protested as the Joker led him into another wing of the mental institution. "What the hell are you doing?!"_

_The Joker came to a room labeled: _Storage_. He struggled to unlock the door while Crane kept silent watch. "What the hell are you--" The ex-doctor turned back to see the door open and the Joker gone. Inside the room._

_Crane peeked inside to see the Joker rummaging through boxes. The room was small, it would not take him very long to find whatever he wanted. _

_Suddenly he started to rip open the cardboard boxes, looking for anything that belonged to himself. Clothes, belongings, toys spilled out of the boxes. Crane looked around, scared about the watch. _

_The Joker then leaned down and pulled out a handful of violet and green clothing. His own. He snatched it and walked as hard as he could out of the room, pushing through Crane, who started to follow him again._

"_What's the time?"_

_He asked, not bothering to even look at the Scarecrow behind him._

_Crane blinked and looked at his silver watch, "Uh… 8:23, why?"_

_The Joker was silent again._

_They ran to the exit and pushed open the large door. Causing an alarm to sound._

"_Shit!" Crane yelped and looked around frantically for the Joker who had disappeared into the night. They were in a parking lot now, and red lights filled the premises. The young man shifted back into the shadows where the light would not catch him._

"_Joker!" He whispered harshly, looking for the man who had freed him. "Shit, shit!" _

_Then he spotted it, the white figure lying in the grass about fifty feet away. Crane frowned and bit his lip, debating. _'I should just let him die.' _He thought and looked from the unconscious Joker to the guards on the roof of the building. _'He did free me…' _He screamed at himself and ran into the red light, instantly spotted by guards._

"_Hey!" The guards on the roof screamed._

_Crane cursed at himself over and over again, then reached the motionless figure in the grass, and rolled him over. The Joker was unconscious. He tapped the man's chest, almost smacking it. "Hey, hey, hey. What happened?" he demanded, temporarily waking the Joker._

_He uttered one word before passing out again. "Thorazine…"_

"_Shit." Crane grabbed the side of the Joker, wrapping his arm around the shoulders and latched an arm under the man's knees. '_God, what the fuck am I doing…' _Crane asked himself as he lifted the Joker. Surprisingly, the Joker was lighter than he expected and noted the sweat on his brow, melting away the grease mask._

_He walked forward, his knees shaking from the extra weight he had to carry. He walked at least a hundred feet before he wanted to collapse from the exhaustion. The adrenaline pumping through his veins slowly dispersed and the endorphins ran out._

_Pain shot throughout his body like fire, but he kept telling himself to walk forward. _

_A beacon shone into his eyes, lighting them up to a sky blue and he sighed in relief._

_The black car screeched to a stop, only feet away from where Crane and the Joker were. A door was pushed open and a man in a clown mask ushered Crane in and dragged his boss into the car._

_As soon as the door shut again, it sped off._

_---_

**Gotham City, Wayne Penthouse**

**Wednesday, September 24**

"Master Wayne!"

The billionaire woke from a light sleep at the call of his name. Without prying his eyes open, he frowned and slammed his head back onto the cold desk he had passed out on hours earlier. He sighed, feeling the cold on his forehead to cool off. The old butler's voice came again. Bruce Wayne noted the urgency in his butler's voice and sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

'_Dammit, Alfred. What is it?' _

He gazed at his watch. 1:02 AM. Groaning, he walked out of his room and followed the man's voice.

"Master Wayne!"

Bruce Wayne found his butler, Alfred Pennyworth, standing in the kitchen, staring in awe at the flat screen television mounted on the granite counter. Gotham Central News was on.

The butler's mouth hung open.

It was hard to tell which was more disturbing, the handheld video camera footage of the Joker, or the headline reeling across the top of the screen:

_**JOKER ESCAPES ARKHAM, SCARECROW AS ACCOMPLICE**_

_**The mass-murderer known as 'The Joker' escaped Arkham Asylum yesterday around 8:00PM, leaving in a black 2006 Hyundai. David Crofford was killed as a result, with the Joker's Glasgow smile trademark left behind on the victim. The escape is said to be assisted by Dr. Jonathan Crane, also known as 'Scare--**_

Alfred turned away from the screen to see Bruce making his way out of the kitchen, a quick stride that the butler recognized. "Shall I be seeing you again in the morning?" Not earning an answer, the butler figured it was affirmative.

The Caped Crusader made his way to the safe-room before disappearing from the old man's sight. "Dear God, that boy is a maniac…" He muttered, looking back at the grainy television screen.

_**If you have any information regarding the Joker's whereabouts or have witnessed any suspicious behavior, please contact the Gotham Police Department at…**_

"Sir, we already have seven incoming calls saying they have spotted the Joker and Jonathan Crane." An official at the GPD station announced to her boss as operators answered the incessant phone calls.

Her boss, a rugged Yankee-man, growled through the smoke of his cigarette, "Open the lines, I want Gotham city to be on the lookout for the Joker, this is not a fucking drill!"

The younger employee stuttered. "Y-yes sir…"

The light on of the phone machines flickered red, and Jim Raines answered. "Gotham Police Department, this is Jim Raines, if I may ask you to hold--"

"_Hello, Mister Raines."_

The operator froze, instantly recognizing the voice of a man they had once imprisoned.

"_Aren't you going to greet your old friend?"_

Raines' heart slowed, but he could still hear its consistent pounding in his eardrums. He parted his lips as if to speak, but he could not speak. Not because his throat was dry or because he had nothing to say. He was frozen.

"Raines…. Raines."

"Raines!"

The administrator flicked down a red button on the phone machine, pushing through his shocked employee.

"Hello? Who is this?"

The voice on the line acted as a paralyzing agent.

"_Hello Mickey. I'm terribly sorry for calling so late, but I think I may have just witnessed an attack by the men you described."_

Mick Kramer's hand shook as he kept his finger glued to the 'talk' button. He knew. "What do you mean?" He asked, wanting to remain blind to facts he already knew.

"_Oh, no-o-o-o! Daddy, there's a shelling on 42nd__ Street, ruuuuun! Heeheehahahahahahahahahahahaha!"_

The line cut off.

It was going to be a long night.

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_The other chapters will be longer, this is just the prologue, my dearies. Expect the next update to be within the week._

_-Ididntdoit07 (Mika)_


	2. Chapter 1: Somethings Wrong

AN: SO sorry it took so long to update!!! Its been months, I know. I had to finish up high school and go on college visits and by the way... battle scenes are very hard to write, but now that I'm back in business, expect another update sooner than before! At longest two-three weeks, no worries!

3Ididntdoit07

disclaimer:i dont own anything in the story, and thank you for the reviews!!

**Moonstruck: Chapter 1**

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CHAPTER 1

**Gotham City**

**42****nd**** Street, **_**South Renaissance Five Star Hotel**_

GOTHAM CITY is an expansion of the northwest coastline, guiding into an oasis of frigid Atlantic Ocean waters outside its port lines. Running over three hundred square miles, holding entertainment and business in the heart of the downtown metropolis. Its interlocking skyscrapers sit upon the bay itself, held up by the drifting inverted buttress that create the illusion of a mythical castle in a sky. But Gotham marks the darkest city in the new world, the largest, a goliath among other cities. Seemingly more welcome than New York or Chicago, the city remains a calamity. Within the 2.8 million people that reside in the capital, only small percents remain cherubic. Corrupted by terrorism and a previous communist government, it is a surprise that Gotham remains stabile. The percentage of criminals and urban decay has increased in the past five decades. It is what Gotham's residents fear most: anarchy. People rely on the police department to keep the streets clean of rapists, pedophiles, and murderers. Succeeding in facing mob leaders and taking the ill to Arkham, it was only recently that the Police Department was demoted for a new noble.

Born from the ashen memories of a wounded child, the faithful guardian powered over Gotham City as a new knight in shining armor. But no, it was a dark knight, the label soon given to the metropolis' hero. Black, pendulous, the silent night watcher.

Gotham City marks the beginning of this story and its end, as all revolves in a circle. For all things birthed within this city will eventually return to die as one will learn.

Having barely slept, Bruce Wayne found it difficult as he raced through the city limits, scaling Gotham's soaring buildings and roadways with the dark skies brightening in the distance. He screamed and cursed at himself for destroying _The Tumbler, _his concealed identity's means of transportation.

_But then again… _He thought. _I don't want to be noticed. _

He recalled the events in the previous weeks, taking the blame of the recently deceased district attorney's crimes. Batman was a wanted man now, and even to Commissioner Gordon's dismay, the Gotham Police Department viewed the Caped Crusader as much as a threat like the Joker. How he hated being compared to the megalomaniac, the two were nothing alike in truth. But he let the people believe he was the enemy, being an even greater hero only to his own knowledge.

His stamina had decreased over the weeks of being on the run from the cops, and when the Joker was imprisoned in the Asylum, Bruce Wayne had time to relax. _You need to lose weight, Wayne, if you're ever going to catch the Joker again. _He noted how he was already out of breath and not even close to the five star hotel the maniac had announced he was at. The Joker was different than the normal criminal, he toyed with emotions before letting them die in peace. Maybe that was what Bruce hated so much about him.

It was strangely quiet; he began to doubt the Joker was even where he announced.

He would have heard the screams already.

As if on cue, like the nasty clap of an April thunderstorm, the roar of particles splitting reverberated in his ears before the heart stopping sound was visual. Golden flames erupted in the distance where black smoke camouflaged in between the dark streets.

He spread his cape, jumped, and soared down to the streets from one of the tall buildings.

-

It had been a while since he had last seen his own blood, gushing out of his body as the ruby liquid cascaded down his arm and dripped off the tips of his fingernails. Cardinal, red, flame, hot with fury, the clowns stared at their wounded boss. They had never before seen anything like it; for it was unimaginable to see Gotham's most dangerous man veritably wounded. And bleeding profusely for that matter.

The Joker was human, whether or not one chose to believe; and every human has their own Achilles' tendon. The henchmen even half expected the clown's blood to be brackish or possibly even an alien green color. Behind the grease paint and scars that covered the man, the mastermind was in fact a simple human being. Of course a debased mortal, he was one who tested the entire extent of the human knowledge and behavioral patterns through gunpowder and possession. He was the devil.

A frightening thought indeed.

But, tonight was different. His henchmen knew there was an awry tension in the air. The boss was acting stranger than the usual maniacal activity, and the Joker knew it too. And it was not the thorazine; he had already been administered antezine to counteract the effects of the powerful drug. He hated to admit it, but he was weak, mortal, vulnerable.

Those were the three word he despised most when being applied to himself. He was _not_ weak. The most feared man in Gotham had a reputation to uphold, and he would not show any weakness.

Painted crimson lips curled into a rotting smile as he laughed to himself at the though. The Joker would fall in _love _with the Batman before he would ever become _weak. _And if those hench-clowns ever said anything about this, they would be having a funeral as well.

He just waited now, patiently shifting his feet, for the partner to arrive. It was time for a reunion with the Dark Knight.

But first…

The green haired menace raised his wounded arm, painted red from his own blood, and rolled up his sleeves to his inked bicep where the bloody mess began. Trailing down his elbow and forearm like the veins they spilled from, the blood complimented the purple velveteen suit in the dark. There was the slight metallic scent hanging in the smoky air where one of the men lit a cigarette. He grinned and to the horror of his children, he bared his nicotine-stained teeth into his own flesh. He looked as if he were pure evil, and the henchmen were even more afraid of him now than before.

He tore at his own arm as if as if the appendage was independent from his body, until his teeth clacked on a solid metallic object. Snatching it by one of the grooves, he ripped it out of the mound of marred meat, spitting the silver bullet and shell on the ground with a splatter of blood.

The hot liquid dribbled out of the scarred corners of his lips and down his chin. At least the main course of the pain was gone. He raised his coal-painted eyes to the men surrounding him and let his arm fall back to his side. They were terrified of him.

Smirking, he walked closer to them half expecting them to back off.

"Wh-what do you want us to do?" One of the masked men asked, the one with the burning tobacco placed between his lips. "We can lead the pigs back h…"

Joker licked the remaining blood off of his lips, and pondered the thought for a moment. Hmm, nope. He strutted up to the henchman, quickly inhaling the sour scent of the cigarette and plucked it out of the man's mouth bringing the joint to his own lips and bit down on the filter, sucking down the burning smoke straight to his already damaged lungs. The combination of tobacco and blood on his maw satisfied the Joker's taste buds, and curled back his lips to snarl at his dog.

The minion did not move to look at his master, but could feel the terrible breath upon his exposed neck.

Blue smoke drifted past his eyes into his face, accompanying the raspy voice in his right ear. The words sent shivers down his spine.

"I make the laws. You follow them or--"

A new recruitment was naïve enough to finish what he thought would be the Joker's sentence.

"You go to Arkham?"

He suggested, right before a .44 caliber bullet shattered through the frontal plate of his skull to his naked brain, spraying blood and bone shards to the pavement. Nothing was funny to the clowns now. Korai Harner stared down the barrel of the same weapon that had taken his friend's life seconds earlier now; his heart almost exploded from his chest.

The Clown Prince smiled wickedly and tossed the extinguished butt to the ground. "Do I need to repeat myself?" He was shorter than his victim, yet the power resided in the simple dark eyes. "Hmm?" The Joker asked again, waving the gun in front of the man's face.

Harner shook his head, stuttering on his first word.

"No….. I-I understand."

As if it was some sort of passcode, the Joker shifted back on his heels and smiled, pulling the gun away. "Good." He squeaked, and looked to the rest of his puppets, expression changing once again.

Gazing over the six--one dead, henchmen, he waved his gun hand around. Licking his painted lips, he spoke one more word.

"Go."

---

The Caped Crusader could taste the ash upon his tongue from the bombing of the _Renaissance Hotel. _He was never much of a religious man, but he prayed silently to himself: _God, please. Let everyone be safe, at least until I get there…_

---

Alone once again, the Joker paced around the alleyway with his hand grasping the wounded arm. He growled to himself, absolutely furious. It shone through his devil eyes. _Those fucking dogs. _The henchmen never did anything right, and lacked the common sense of an ordinary human being. To them it was all bang, bang, shoot, boom, green, green, guns. Nothing was ever about how to rule, just money and using guns as means to get what one wants; never used to upset the established order of the democracy.

Everything started to ache from the tension and aggravated nerves. In a sick movement, he snapped his head from side to side causing the cervical vertebra in his neck to pop. He groaned out of pleasure from the feeling of released endorphins.

He shut his eyes and attempted to relax.

"You look like shit."

He pried his eyes open again, annoyed by the whiny voice from behind him. The Joker's subconscious screamed at himself. _Dumbfuck, you should have left him at Arkham if you knew he would be this annoying. _Even though the Crane was a few years older than himself, he knew he was more experienced in the mastermind business over Gotham.

The Joker bit the inside of his lip, and without turning around he grumbled. "Inane schizophrenic, calculable, abortive sack-head."

The Scarecrow slithered up behind him, examining the long shaft of a shotgun. He laughed at the Joker's large vocabulary. "You have an encyclopedia in that head cavity of yours?" Unafraid that the younger man would hurt him, he taunted the one he saved.

He only moved his eyes to pierce through the twine sack into Crane's azure gaze.

"I believe the correct term is _dictionary, _Johnny."

"Fuck you."

The Joker stared at him in amusement, clutching his arm to attempt and stop the bleeding. The Dr. Jonathan Crane part of the Scarecrow resurfaced for a moment where the site of blood on his accomplice transformed him to the doctor once again.

He grabbed the man's arm, causing him to go into immediate shock at someone actually touching him softly instead of having his face dented in. The clown pulled away quickly, caught off guard.

Crane protested, "You're hurt."

"You were a psychologist, not a medic as I recall." He spat.

He rolled his blue eyes, "It doesn't take a nurse to recognize a shattered bone."

"It's just a flesh wound." The Joker replied in a mock British accent, waving his wounded arm around to prove that it was perfectly fine.

Crane snatched the younger man's arm, shoving two of his fingers into the mess of the bullet wound, watching the Joker's expression twist. He looked as if he were to vomit from the jolt of pain shooting up his arm through the rest of his bones and muscle fibers like fire. The former psychologist's digits dug deeper into the wound, almost causing the Joker to scream.

_No! Not weak. _He yelled at himself on the inside and pulled his pained expression quickly into a fit of laughter as he yanked away, catching the sack in his talons. His lips curled into the wicked smile once more and he stood straight, cackling. With the criminal's mask unveiled, Crane stood as vulnerable as a small child. The Joker laughed at the sack; as if some magic trick, a black knife appeared in his hand, pointing it towards Crane's heart.

Through the laughter, he wheezed out, "They told me you were like this."

"_They_?"

Ignoring the repetitive question and moving onto his own explanation of Scarecrow's tactics, the Joker eased in like his previous victim. "You know, all criminals in this town believe in their sort of code, if you will, their own morals, that the whole world is in their entire hand." He demonstrated, clutching his fist tightly to Crane's unchanging expression.

He tossed the sack at the man's feet. "Gotham's Dark Knight deserves a better legio_nnair_e, not a handful of rookies. I'm above your standards; this is _my_ city." It was then that Scarecrow understood the power the younger man had over him. The Joker was probably able to give Hannibal Lecter nightmares. The porcelain painted face, bloody smile, and coal eyes mesmerized him; if it was not for the little bit of chewing gum in the back of his molars he could have sworn he would forgot to breathe.

The sudden shadow flashing past his peripheral vision caused the masked man to take a sharp breath and evade the third rival who interrupted his and the clown's meeting. Windows shattered from above as a result of the Bat's whisky entrance. Crane stumbled back as he recovered, looking up to see the caped crusader looming above like the grim reaper himself.

"Y-you…" The blue eyed menace wheezed out, narrowing his eyes to make sure of what really just happened.

Was the Batman really here himself, not just some fake?

Had the Joker's plan really worked?

Was--

His thoughts came to a halt when the streak of purple, white, and green crashed through the black as the Joker sprung from his feet onto the Batman with a dagger in his hand. He could clearly hear the sound of the wind being knocked out of both of them as they collided like two cars on a highway. The younger one grunted quietly and regained himself in time to avoid a Kevlar reinforced glove aiming for the clown's temple.

His lips curled in a yellow and red smile. "Oooh, hehe. Didja miss me?" He clicked his tongue at the last comment in a flirtatious manner towards the raging bat.

What he did not expect was another question as the Batman growled through clenched teeth. "How did you get out?" he roared. Okay so he was not going to be as easy as the clown had thought as he dodged the questions. No, answering the Joker's direct questions was as if he were bowing down to the crazy man. He hated the man behind the mask, both of them. They both related back to Rachel somehow in his mind and refused to ignore any other possibilities. Engulfed by his hatred, he got his next fist ready for the painted face.

Crane looked back and forth from the clown to the bat. This was not going to end on a pretty note, someone was going to end up in the back of a police cruiser and another bleeding on the pavement. Ha sure, like either of those would be him, he thought as he fingered a shard of glass on the ground next to him that had been a souvenir from the shattered windows above. The sharp edges dug into the fleshy palm of his hand, drawing blood.

He winced. Not at the glass, he was not a child. But at the sound of the Batman's knuckles crashing into the side of his legion's skull, echoing across the alley way as if the caped crusader had just hit a home run in the World Series. It was the small nick of time he needed.

With his boots gripping the asphalt he raised his heels and pushed off the tips of his toes, lunging towards the enemy with the makeshift knife in hand.

Senses heightened from the adrenaline pulsing through the billionaire's veins, the simple gravel crunching beneath the rubber boots was all the Bat needed to hear before he spun on feet, forearm raised and Crane could only wince as the scallops from the Batman's armor shot into chest, shoulder and sliced his right cheek.

He fell backwards, letting out a simple grunt in utter defeat.

The Clown Prince of Crime steadied himself, wiping the blood off of his lips with a gloved finger. He shined his yellow teeth as he laughed at his ally's failure. He often wondered if the other villain was capable of fighting off the Bat by naked hands, as he had always gloated. Guess not.

Smack!

Before he even had time to ready for another attack, the black bat was ahead of the pursuer and smashed the Joker's grin into the aluminum side of a nearby dumpster. He was not so lucky himself.

Batman stepped back after immobilizing both enemies and watched as the violet clad one slumped down into a bloody heap, holding his stomach and the side of his face. His dark eyes were squinted shut and lips curved back in a wolfish snarl. Blood and saliva trailed out of his teeth in a dark crimson line down to the asphalt.

The Joker was a monster now, separated from the grinning mastermind.

_I've never seen him like this before. _

_He's… a different person. _

_Joker isn't here. _

_This isn't the Joker._

_The maniac behind the scars is in front of me now. _Thoughts ran quickly through Bruce Wayne's mind while he watched the seemingly creature in front of him transform. It sent invisible shivers down his spine, triggering a deep shudder that stopped his heart momentarily.

_This isn't the Joker…_

He found himself locked in a gaze with the psychopath's unnerving dark eyes. If it were not for the black mask around his eyes, the fear would have been written all over his still face.

He sloppily yanked a pistol out of his trench coat, letting his arm lay dead at his side with the weapon, as another glinted silver with the old blade. He was intent on killing, expression unchanging.

_This isn't the Joker._

---


	3. Chapter 2: Bruce Wayne's Day Off

Hello, I'm very sorry it took a while to update this! I know a lot of you are reading it and reviewing (Thanks so much!) And I hope you readers return to this story as well as new readers. I have the entire thing set in my head, only problem is to write it all down—which is happening, aside from taking notes in my classes. Can you believe I'm 19 now?! When I started out I was about 14... wow. lol.

**_NOTE:_** In this story, Jim Gordon knows Batman's true identity, learning after the Dark Knight, which also helps protect Bruce Wayne as a 'suspect'. Otherwise, that is the only thing that has changed about the plot of BB/TDK. No actual Joker in this chapter… actually no Joker for perhaps the rest of the story, but don't let that stop you. You still see him… in a different aspect.

**Warning: Each chapter will have a new warning, as to not spoil for the rest of the story. Like any good read, you want the reader to keep guessing. The warning here is a little OOC-ness, swearing, and violence. Otherwise, clean chapter.**

R&R, please! And also I do not own any of the Batman characters whatsoever.

And here… we…go!

* * *

"Joker…how did you escape from Arkham?"

Bruce Wayne was starting to lose his temper; he had dealt with all this bullshit before and the Joker refused to listen to anything he ever said. _I guess I should be used to people not even giving me an answer; after all you are a dick. _He contemplated inside his head, not taking his eyes off of the Joker. They shared the same poisonous gaze that sent a subtle shiver down the Bat's back. He ignored it, hoping possibly that the two brutes did not catch it. During the staring contest, Batman examined the clown from head to toe after not seeing him since the engagement looking over Cape Carmine. The mad man's appearance had changed, and Bruce took account of how much smaller the clown looked, almost like a starving child. In previous battles, the Joker was more difficult to fight, nearly matching his own weight minus the Kevlar costume. It took more effort to push him around, but now the Joker was as light as a woman. It seemed as if even a mild gust of wind could knock him off of his feet.

The painted menace sneered at the Batman and ignored the questions, looking up and around. They were like fog, rolling in so suddenly and quietly that the Joker had no time to even make a quick escape. Well, the helicopter was not so invisible. The chopping sound of the blades echoed above their heads and the wind blew the Joker's green hair around as it tangled even more. They surrounded everything; SWAT closed off the entrances to the alleyway, trapping them there, and police cruisers were probably armed within a mile radius. Fuck. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the metallic taste of blood trickling into his stomach. He knew, oh he knew that he was only moments from being caught.

But where the hell was Crane? The man seemed to have disappeared into thin air. He probably ran off after Batman kicked his ass, the Joker thought. The doctor was not very noble, and instead of chasing after his enemy or encouraging a fight, he ran for it. Come to think of it, 'Scarecrow' seemed to be quite perturbed by bats. Who's afraid of the big, black bat?

_He-he-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!_

"What was the point of escaping Arkham?"

The prey looked around now realizing that his henchmen and both Crane had left him for the pigs. But he was the Joker! The painted menace was a far cry from those weaklings, no. _No, _he would not even speculate that he was human. He had no fear, ha! What a joke. "The next step for you is a padded room. A fair retribution to you criminally insane." The Joker's cold eyes snapped up and matched the Batman's.

"No, I'm no_**t**_." He accented the last syllable with a little hiss. At least, even in his craziest moments, he still retained the cynical speech. It almost comforted Bruce, knowing that the Joker was the same maniac as before.

"_Drop your weapon!"_

One of the men in the helicopter called down at the villain, his voice amped by a megaphone. The Joker looked up; trying to see who was yelling at him, but the light they shone prevented him from seeing anything but the propeller blades. Might as well obey, it's just a knife. He raised his knife hand, and showed it to the SWAT and helicopter club, then let it drop to the concrete with a 'clink'.

The world seemed to freeze for the Gotham City Police Department and SWAT. Bruce stared at the Joker, examining his every move, as he slowly licked his painted lips. The Joker and Batman shared eye contact, both watching intently.

_Yeah, yeah… keep staring, Batman. Do my eyes scare you?_

And his lips curled into a bloody smile.

He yanked up his finger, a ring and little string attached to it, as his left coat wing opened…presenting the dozens of grenades hanging like ornaments from the pinkish lining of his trench coat. Each grenade pin shared the string—the lifeline, up to the Joker's finger. Like robots, each gun was pointed right towards him, cocked, and ready to fire.

Bruce's lips parted as he was surprised by the motion. He could feel his back stiffen and held his breath. Sure the Joker was insane, but was he really crazy enough to blow himself up as well as the rest of them? What went on inside that man's mind; was he really a psychopath or did he have a motive aside from being a suicide bomber? The Joker surely did not want to die at the hands of the police, or his very enemy—Batman himself.

_Joker… _

Bruce watched impatiently, almost afraid for the Joker's life. _Come on, Bruce. Chill out, he's killed so many people, including... _He tightened his expression. _He deserves the worst, even to die. Let him kill himself and rid you of the job. Let him kill himself, set us free. Let this madness please end…_

A violet clad hand groped a small article, and provided that it was camouflaged in the same pigment as the glove. He smiled wickedly revealing the sociopath he was previously through grimy, blood stained teeth. He teased the thread on his finger, threatening those surrounding him. In the Joker's other hand, he gripped the leather sac, about the size of a golf ball, and as he moved his arm to his side, he let it fall to the ground silently. His red lips moved quickly and whispered, counting. _3…2… _

_Fzzzzz _the mauve sac spewed out billows of white smoke, immediately covering a ten foot diameter around the Joker within seconds as he disappeared into the fog. His finger yanked on the pin the second the squad opened fire, explosions erupted around the entire premises. Fire, smoke, and gunshots sang in a perfect melody of onslaught. The area was a scene of absolute chaos; there was a shooting squad, G206 aircraft superintending the area for any of the Joker's mutts rummaging around, and there stood the dark vigilante.

Bruce Wayne stepped backwards, afraid for what he was to see when the gases dissipated. His distance from the Joker had been enough to protect him from the first waves of expired gunpowder and smoke.

"Hold fire!" The sergeant held out his arm to silence his men, staring down into the fading smoke. There were shards of glass, debris from the grenades and shells littering the asphalt from where the Joker stood. The only trace left of the Joker was a puddle of blood on the ground, glimmering in the streetlights above.

_They shot him. _Bruce immediately knew; it was imminent, and he licked his dry lips.

The eyes turned to him.

And as soon as the Batman had entered the alley, he was gone into the _dark night_.

* * *

**Gotham City, Wayne Penthouse**

**Thursday, September 25**

_Pit-pat_

_Pit-pat_

_Pit-pat_

The billionaire stirred within his bed, fit for a king, and rolled around in the heavy silken sheets. He sighed in content; it was the first actual sleep he had gotten after the abrupt change of events that had occurred the past few days. There had been nightmares that racked his mind at night. He could see the carnage the Joker had committed to, the victims with the undeviating smiles etched onto their faces to match his own scars.

After each episode of waking up with a cold sweat, he would stride to the kitchen and fix himself a cup of coffee- the only thing that could settle his irrational mind. Bruce was always careful not to wake his guardian Alfred Pennyworth, or worry the poor old man. That old friend already had to deal with Bruce Wayne, from his troubled childhood, his experimenting with drugs in high school, and his part-time job as the Caped Crusader. Even through all the trouble it took him, Alfred always tried to protect him in any way that he could

But Bruce was a grown man now, head of his family's enterprise. The only person who could possibly protect him was the Batman.

He slept very well, though. Gaining a good six hours of sleep was incredible compared to his nocturnal 'bat' habit. Ha. Considering the Joker had escaped from Arkham and already wreaked havoc on the city, Bruce felt as if he should not worry.

_But why?_

_Is it because I don't care?_

He mentally questioned his own thoughts, still trapped within his slumbering self. The Joker was still out there, doing hell knows what. He was probably raiding the Gotham City Zoo for all he knew; Bruce smiled subconsciously.

_Or maybe catering to a little kid's birthday party. Stupid clown._

At that thought, his dark weak eyes pried open, instantly noting that the room was lacking its natural sun-lit presence. As his senses came to, he could see out his window-and hear- the rain coming down in heavy droplets over Gotham.

_Thank god I wasn't coming home in that last night._

He remarked to himself; after the showdown in the alley way, Batman became the target and was the wanted man. There were times when he wished he had not taken the responsibility of the deaths caused by the recently departed district attorney. He knew he could run, but for how long? The Joker was back and Bruce sincerely believed he was the only one who could match the fighting capabilities. Gotham Police Department made that somewhat more difficult, though…

Bruce turned onto his side, staring into the hundreds of fibers that made up his pillowcase and began gnawing on it as he used to as a child.

_I wonder what the Joker is up to…_

_Certainly he sleeps, he always has so much energy. _

_What does he even do when he's not ripping off mob dealers and blowing up buildings? He just has to have a life aside from anarchy; or is he really that insane? _

He looked past the pillow he was eating and stared at the old clock on his bed stand. 8:43 AM. He groaned. Okay, so that was 4 hours of sleep…

Bruce pondered about turning back over and pulling the sheets over his head to catch some more sleep, but the little voice in his head reminded him. _Alfred is probably going to knock on my door any minute now, anyways. And I have to get to Wayne Enterprises sometime today to discuss the new trades with Chicago. _

"Ugh…" He groaned out loud and pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the sides of his face to help himself wake up. Today was going to be a long day.

He snaked out of bed, making his way to the pristine bathroom only feet away. Boy, did he have to take a leak. The cold marble on the floor was enough to make him flinch, still drowsy from the lack of sleep and night before. Subconsciously he attempted to pull his pajama bottoms over his feet to help protect them from the evil, cold floor. He stood over the toilet, staring out the double paned window at his head level, looking out onto the foggy streets of downtown Gotham.

Those were the kinds of days where Bruce had no motivation to do anything else except sit in his bed and read, or watch some old Disney movies. _Come to think of it. When was the last time I ever did that? _He sighed to himself as he let loose in the friendly commode. _You work too much, Bruce. Why not just take a break from all of this once Wayne Manor is refurbished? _He shook his head.

_The Joker. _

Ah, yes. The very reason he is stuck in all these damned positions, forced to run from the law as well as trying to protect it. _Once he is taken care of, I'll fucking… _He trailed off in his own thoughts, coming face to face with the Joker's grin imprinted into his mind.

"Fuck you."

He told nobody in particular, looking to his left where he saw the sparkling, inviting shower staring right at him. He pondered, and finished with the toilet by giving it a courteous flush. Jesus, when was the last time he took a shower? The Bat-suit made him sweat and feel unclean after a night of combat and galloping around all Gotham, Bruce felt disgusting.

Not bothering to even close the bathroom door, he stripped himself of his shirt and leggings, tossing them in the nearest corner-behind the toilet. His plaid boxers were next and lay alone on the marble tiles. He reached into the shower, twisting the knobs to warm up.

_This is going to feel amazing…_

And Bruce was right. After scrubbing each grain of dirt and salty shimmer on his skin off, he felt wonderful and more prepared for the day he was not expecting…

He found his spot again in bed, instantly greeted by the warmth of the covers waiting for their 'master' to return. The coolness of his damp hair helped him relax within the two temperatures, finding that perfect place to aid in his doze.

"_Master Wayne!"_

_Great. _

Bruce Wayne raised his head from out of the covers to glare at the intercom on the other side of his bedroom, where Alfred was calling him. _At least let me catch another hour before I deal with whatevers… _Sigh. That British man was most likely on his way up to Bruce's bedroom by this time, determined to get the kid up and awake.

_He probably heard the shower. God, Wayne, you couldn't have been more subtle about your actions._

Then there was the muffled thumping on Bruce's bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

"Master Wayne, are you appropriate?"

Bruce took this as his cue to crawl out of bed a second time, and stood up to brush off his wrinkled clothes. "Yep." He repeated, and immediately the door squeaked open with Alfred standing in the doorway, with a ghost-like, and somewhat… jubilant expression. He was overwhelmed with something, and this instantly put Bruce on the tips of his toes.

"What is it?"

Alfred Pennyworth was not one to laugh at someone's dismay or feel jealous at another's fortune, but something was obviously ticking the man. He presented a cell phone to Bruce, as the billionaire walked over—clueless.

He stared down at Alfred's phone, and back up to meet the blue eyes glazed with excitement as a smile crept onto the old man's face. "What's wrong?"

"Something you will have to hear for yourself, sir."

Bruce looked at the screen; the phone was in the middle of a call, and lifted the phone shakily to his ear, ready to hear the news. "Hello?"

He was greeted by Jim Gordon's voice, sounding the same as Alfred—with exhilaration and an unbelievable tone. Bruce only needed to hear those few words in order to share the equivalent astonishment.

"We got him, Bruce."

----------

It did not take much explaining to know what Commissioner Gordon was talking about. Though, Bruce was almost in a state of shock; the thought could not be comprehended in his mind. The masked man that had been terrorizing Gotham's streets for the past few months was finally recaptured, and in holding. Hopefully this time, he would not escape and be under constant surveillance.

_They captured the Joker. _

The thought repeated itself in Bruce's head as he sat in the back of the limousine driven by Alfred. He almost felt a hint of jealousy of Gordon, even though the man himself did not track down the clown and snatch him off of his feet. He almost felt as if he had captured the Joker, Batman would no longer have to run.

_Shut up._

_It was for Dent's own good. Don't… be a hero._

He stared out the window, the rain flowing down the glass in a horizontal manner. _Huh, it's almost like the way blood flows. _He blinked, realizing what he had thought of and shook his head cursing at himself. What the hell did he just think of?

And then…

They passed the Gotham Police Department.

Bruce watched it pass his peripheral vision and back to Alfred in the driver's seat. "Alfred, I don't mean to be rude, but you passed GPD."

"I'm afraid our appointment is not at the GPD, Master Wayne."

"Then wh--"

"I suggest moving your eyes to the other side of the vehicle."

Bruce did so—his mouth dropped open, confused as to why they were here of all places.

_Why the hospital?_

* * *

So I kind of wanted to keep adding to this chapter, but I realized that if I did it would be very rushed and not enough time to actually get into the characters. So eh, what the hell. I already started the next chapter and halfway through, so it will be up sooner than about a year. LOL Jeez, well I'm back in the fanfiction mode, and it wont take long to finish this story! Yes, it has an ending. Dont all stories? Well, no... some dont... some people make you read and read and read and leave you on a cliffhanger and never update ever again. Aint that a bitch?

If you like it, please review and tell me what you like or dont like about it; I'm not going to come at you and attack. Feedback is awesome.

R&R!!!

Love ya guys!

Ididntdoit07


	4. Chapter 3: Tainted

**Moonstruck: Chapter 3**

Alright, so this is the 3rd chapter now and I'm actually updating on a regular basis now! Yay, so you guys don't have to wait months or years for the next update. Please tell me what you guys think of this story, I love it and can't wait to finish it.

By the way, the next chapters will be longer. I just couldn't think of any fillers XD

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Dark Knight or Batman Begins, if I did there would be a lot more interaction between Batsy and a certain Joker… I kind of own 'Ada'.

-Ididntdoit07

* * *

**Gotham General Hospital**

**Thursday, September 25 12:39PM**

Commissioner Gordon had greeted Bruce Wayne in the parking garage of the new Gotham General Hospital. Due to the Joker's previous antics including blowing up said hospital, Wayne had lent the government one million dollars in order to rebuild the place. The name was kept and opened only weeks ago to the general public—a more accommodating location than the nearest infirmary—off of the island.

"Wayne! It's good to see you!" Gordon greeted with his arms held out as if to present the billionaire to the whole parking lot. He looked weathered and tired, but content nonetheless. Bruce smiled in response and patted the Commissioner's shoulder instead of his usual handshake.

"It's good to see you as well, Gordon. It's been a while."

Gordon took a step back, leading the two men towards the exit. "That is has, Bruce." He turned,

"Gordon, do you mind telling me why we are not at the MCU?"

The older man ignored the question as if nothing had been said, not even returning eye contact.

Wayne and Alfred followed the Commissioner into the stairwell leading out of the garage. The billionaire could hear shouting, and sirens at the top of the stairs. Bruce figured they were presumably paparazzi and news teams, most likely trying to attain information regarding the whereabouts of the newly captured Clown Prince.

James Gordon paused as he began to march up the steps.

"Perhaps it's best for Batman to take a less conspicuous entry."

---

"Commissioner, care to translate?"

"Hmm?"

"You have failed to answer my question as to why we are here."

Gordon smiled as he scanned his card to enter through a security door on the remote basement floor. He pushed it open with the aid of his name as a password, holding it open for the billionaire and butler. Once inside, he secured the door shut and began walking through the newly furbished hospital hallways inhaling the sweet scent of new paint.

He looked down at his watch out of casual habit; the time did not matter to him, and turned back to Bruce as he met the piercing, impatient gaze. He wanted the answer he has been begging for the past few minutes.

"GCPD followed the Joker's trails after the alley incident last night. His men betrayed him and ran for it."

He stopped midsentence to let out a little chuckle. "Nobel of them, I know. We cut the head off of the snake, and the rest--"

"Are powerless." Bruce finished.

Gordon stared at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "…Surrender."

Bruce nodded, trailing up a new set of stairs into the main gallery of the hospital.

"The Joker was cornered in what seemed to be his crash pad, all of his goons scattered the place. Completely deserted. He… he threatened to bomb the building, with himself and our squads inside. We had no choice but to open fire. The next moments were a blur."

Bruce looked around uncomfortably, and recognized the uncertainty in the Commissioner's voice.

He conceived the fact that they arrived at their final destination. Security was heavy; it seemed as if half of Gotham Police Department presided in small hallways of the infirmary. Commissioner Gordon separated from Wayne and Pennyworth.

"Excuse me… Everybody could we clear out, give us some room please?"

Bruce Wayne took in the surroundings—The blinds to a rather large patient care unit were closed and had two body guards, carrying Beretta 9mm pistols for safety. Shadows reflected off of the blinds of more bluecoats patrolling the room.

_The Joker is here…_

"Alfred."

"Sir?"

Bruce ambled over to his old guardian and rustled in his coat pockets for his wallet. "You wouldn't mind running across the street and fetching me some cream cheese coffeecake, would you?" He snuck a crisp twenty into the butler's white gloved hands.

He earned a gentle, smile from Alfred. He got the hint. "No, sir I wouldn't mind."

"Buy yourself some nice castella cake, too. I will join you in an hour."

They exchanged the same genuine smile of long-time friends and parted their separate ways.

He swapped his attention back over to Jim Gordon, who had successfully cleared the area of cameras and security, save for the two bodyguards outside of the room. The situation was that out of a comic book, people safely guarding a treasure or something very precious to the world. In this case, it was the life of a criminal mastermind.

Mayor Anthony Garcia appeared behind Gordon, having been told some fib to excuse Wayne's presence.

He shone his bright grin, offering a handshake. "Bruce Wayne, it's very nice to see you. Commissioner Gordon told me about your interest in keeping the city clean of violence."

Bruce looked to the officer, who gave him a look that read _play along._

"Y-yes. Having provided Gotham with new accommodations, I would also like to aid in the eradication of Gotham's criminal stance."

"Well sir. I appreciate your interest, but are you sure you are willing to--"

Garcia was interrupted by Commissioner Gordon, "…So what do we have here?" He asked to a nurse on his left, holding a clipboard of the patient's injuries and medical files. She was a bright redhead with a bouncy, shoulder-length do, covering most of the wrinkles wreaking havoc over her body.

Bruce read her nametag: Ada.

Somehow, it seemed very familiar…

He looked to the dark haired mayor, and they whispered to each other, barely audible to the human ear.

_We will talk about this later._

Ada looked to the men for permission to continue and read off the charts:

"Patient #4479 entered early this morning at 4:24AM, brought in unconscious with multiple lacerations to the arms, legs, and abdomen and head. Mild concussion, three bullet wounds, two gashes on the lateral sides of the mouth, hematomas to the back and right leg. He is lucky to be alive."

_Sure. _

Bruce Wayne thought in his head. _If this really is the Joker, he deserves what has happened to him. _

"May we?"

Gordon placed a hand on the doorknob, asking permission to enter the room. The redhead turned to the Mayor, and then looked to Bruce closing her clipboard. She nodded, earning a 'thank you' smile from the Commissioner and they entered.

There we was, lying in the new white bed, sitting slightly upright to keep the blood from rushing to his heart. The first thing that Bruce Wayne noticed was that he was still unconscious, and the second thing he noticed… were the damages. He strode in, looking around uncomfortably as he then hovered over the sleeping patient.

The nurses had to cut his vest and shirt off, leaving them in a bag by the door. The clown was in a white gown, which courteously hid the EKG wires over his body. But the clown was gone from his appearance: the only indication that the sleeping patient was the Clown Prince was the dark leftover makeup from under his eyes and the greasy green hair.

There was a tattoo on his bicep peeking out of the gown, of a dragonfly, Bruce noted, and another on his wrist that read: _KAOS_.

He frowned. _Figures he would have 'kaos' written on him somewhere._

There was a long, old scar covering the left half of his body, reaching from his collar down to the hidden area of his clothing.

And then Bruce examined the injuries.

Oxygen tubes ran up his nose as well as a larger, rippled tube between his lips…where the scars he had always bragged about were bandaged over, with a little orange stain of new blood on the soft gauze. Medical tape covered stitches across his forehead, and saw the tan skin beneath the war paint.

Bruce Wayne stared at the sight before his eyes, knowing for a fact that it was the first time he had ever seen the Joker like this. He seemed…calm, and at peace. His face was tan and wrinkle free without a hint of stubble on his chin.

_I almost expected him to be older… he couldn't be older than me._

"He was also shot in the chest. Luckily for him, it didn't pierce any vital organs. He's been out since they captured him, but to be safe we have him on a low sedative."

The Joker was out cold, like a corpse almost and it even looked like the man had been dead for several hours. The GPD hadn't killed him, and Bruce figured death was probably a more realistic punishment than life in Arkham. He saw the IV shoved into a bruised vein on the Joker's hand; he was receiving blood (B-), and fluids to keep him hydrated.

"None of his injuries are vital." Gordon narrated. "The clown will wake soon and when he does, he'll be well on his way to Arkham."

Bruce sighed and forgot his attention to the sleeping menace. "The Joker escaped from Arkham before, what makes you think he won't do it again?"

It was a good point.

"Mr. Wayne, are you suggesting death?"

Bruce backed off and broke the eye contact. "Isn't that what he deserves? He's a cop killer, a lethal danger to Gotham, or anywhere that he may exploit. He doesn't merit the very oxygen feeding into his lungs."

He found himself staring at the EKG monitor, showing the man's heart-rate, blood pressure, and vital signs. A little under the normal rate, but he was alive: unfortunately.

Gordon's expression softened a little. "No… I suppose not." His voice was neither against the idea nor on the billionaire's side. The Commissioner was adamant on keeping the city threat-free, however believed that even the hannibals did not deserve capital punishment.

Garcia smiled at the two men in the room and thanked the security.

"Gordon, go home: the clown will be here in the morning. I know you need some rest."

Bruce agreed and the men left the patient, guarded by heavy security. He and the mayor exchanged looks, and walked out to have their talk.

---

"I-I'm sorry sir, would you care to explain that to me again? How are you going to keep your and Batman's lives separate?"

Alfred asked, looking up from his warm cappuccino inside the elegant coffee shop, unsure of what his master had told him. He knew that Bruce was a hard one to argue with, but how was the man going to juggle his life as a crime fighting billionaire and a masked vigilante?

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh. "I said I'm going to donate to the GPD to help decrease Gotham's crime rate."

"And just how are you going about that, sir?"

"I'm going to hold a meeting with the mob."

Alfred sat back in his chair, avoiding all eye contact with the crazy billionaire. His eyes wandered to the painting behind the man's neatly groomed head, trying to find something else to talk about when he knew he would not be able to talk Bruce out of it.

The boy was always stubborn.

He sighed, and looked down into his cup. _Oh, Bruce…_

"As long as I have nothing to do with it, Master Bruce."

The brunet smiled tightly, "You always have my back, Alfred. Thank you."

* * *

Alright, so this chapter was a little smaller because originally this one and the second chapter were merged into one. But I decided to cut them due to the plot going too fast. Anyways, readers, you will see more of the Joker in the next chapter and things get faster!

How will Bruce deal with all this? Keep reading to find out!

I want to know what you guys think, cause I don't know if you like it or not, what I should improve, what you guys want to see, so R&R and tell me!

-Ididntdoit07


	5. Chapter 4: Paparzzi

**Moonstruck Chapter 4**

**Note:** To those who thought Bruce was OOC, we never know what goes on inside his head because he is kind of a quiet individual. I wanted to portray a more human side of him, because occasionally we all think things that we want, but don't really want to see happen in real life. Like, I hate this girl in class, and sometimes imagine her getting eaten by a monster, but I don't want her really to be eaten.

**_Warnings: Slash, a little OOCness (well, the Joker lost his memory, do you still expect him to be the same exact guy?)_**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the DC Characters. Frost isn't mine, btw.

_And…here…we…._

_Go!_

* * *

**Gotham City  
Sunday, September 29th**

Ever since a single camera man had eavesdropped on the GCPD that the Clown Prince was a patient at Gotham General, news spread quicker than the death of JFK. The billionaire was right; once the broadcast was heard, people felt safer and unlocked their windows, enjoying the streets once again.

Over the past few days, Gotham's headlines have all read the same thing and the same picture of the clown menace that had been wreaking havoc all over the city.

JOKER CAPTURED AFTER ASSAULT

Or

JOKER IN COMA

GOTHAM'S CRIME RATE DECREASES

WHY GOTHAM DOESN'T NEED BATMAN

Bruce Wayne repeated the title of the tabloid, taking it off of the street vendor's shelves as he chewed on a cheap hot dog he had purchased minutes ago. He stared grotesquely at the paper, as a famous picture of the Bat had been seriously disfigured and looked more like 'Batboy' than the hero. He shuffled in his pockets for a few crumpled dollar ills, handed them to the vendor and walked over to his friend, who was enjoying a cup of tea and biscuit under a lovely French awning of the _Aigre Doux. _

He slapped the tabloid right in front of Alfred's face, repeating the title.

"Why Gotham doesn't need Batman."

Alfred adjusted his glasses, and took hold of the paper, "My, what have they done to your face?" He stared carefully at the exaggerated bloodshot eyes and fangs poorly photo-shopped onto Batman's hyperextended maw.

Bruce sat down in the cast iron chair opposite of the butler, adjusting himself in the uncomfortable seat.

"Look at the title." He said bluntly.

Alfred glanced at it again, and at the other titles on the black and white page. They read _Obese Man Saves Child from Drowning By Giant Belly; "I found a mermaid in my sandwich!" 9-Month Old Baby Gets Black Belt in Karate. _

"Why Gotham no longer needs Batman." There was a slight impatient tone in his voice and gave the butler a firm look.

"Master Bruce, are you suggesting a day off?"

"That's not what I had in mind…"

The butler sighed, giving the brunet a time to speak. "I always said there was going to be a time when Gotham no longer needed Batman. And that time is coming."

"It's a tabloid, Master Wayne… How could you-"

"And they're right for a change. Gotham doesn't need Batman. Gordon and his men caught the Joker without the help of the suit. They cut the head off of the snake, Alfred. Without the leadership of the Joker, his henchmen are just goons with no power in their hands at all. And look at these headlines--"

He grabbed a ratty copy of the Gotham Times off of a nearby deserted table and handed them to Alfred. "Look through it." He commanded. Alfred gave him a strange look and then turned his attention to the paper the billionaire was adamant on him to read. He flipped through the thin, dry pages. Searching for what he figured Bruce wanted him to find.

"What do you see?"

"The Super Bowl, car ads, and oh will you look at that. Bonvino's is reopening next Saturday."

"Look at for the crime section."

Alfred sighed and flipped through the paper again, slightly pausing at one of the comics in the youth section until giving up. "I can't find it sir."

Bruce spoke monotone, knowing that he was right. "Because there is none."

"Hmm?" Alfred looked once again, trying to avoid eye contact.

"The streets have been clean since the Joker was captured. It's the same as when he was carted off to Arkham: The threats decreased, even with the Scarecrow out on the loose. Gotham can take care of itself now, without the help of a mask."

Alfred cleared his throat, "I'm sorry Master Wayne, if I offend you in any way, but is that not contradicting to your plan with the Mayor?"

"It's not." He replied bluntly. "These men aren't going to leave their treasure chest without some convincing. And that's what I'm going to do." He finished, shoving the rest of the hot dog in his mouth.

----------------

**Gotham General  
Monday, September 30**

Beep….beep….beep….beep…

The green line that represented the patient's heartbeat became more constant, faster and stronger as a deep stir ran throughout his whole body. His chest rose and sank at each deep breath he took. The dirty fingertips twitched gently as he gradually regained consciousness in the comforting hospital bed.

His body sunk quickly as he sighed at the feeling of the satin sheets pulled up over his chest. The warmth reassured him that he was safe, and more importantly, alive. Everything seemed stiff and he knew for a fact that he could not move.

Breathing was quite difficult when having a large tube shoved down his throat and trachea.

_Huh…intubation. _

It was the only thing that came to his mind. He debated the idea of opening his eyes to the world, to see what Gotham had in store for him now. But his loss of strength denied him the ability. As he strained, pain overwhelmed him and he succumbed back to a painful slumber.

-------------

**Gotham City Hall  
Tuesday, September 31**

"Mayor, you plan to keep the cities clean of violence within the next few months. How are you going about this, are you having help from the so-called Batman? I mean—assuming Batman still serves Gotham?"

Reporters, paparazzi, and the Gotham board stood in an audience of chaos once hearing the news of the Mayor's plans. Garcia shook his black hair, speaking powerfully and attempting to win the city's favor.

"The vigilante Batman has no affiliation with me, or the GCPD. We intend to compose an accord with crime in Gotham, to protect the people. Our only priority is the safety of the public in Gotham. With the Joker in confinement, Gotham has the advantage--we have the advantage to win the war over violence." The Mayor answered, hoping it would please the people. A chorus of impatient reporters roused up again, yelling their incessant questions again.

Mayor Garcia spotted the neatly trimmed Bruce Wayne standing in the back, uncomfortable as usual about the talk of his alter-ego. He was right about the government no longer needing Batman.

_Come on, Wayne. _He told himself, _Batman needs to retire. Did you really think that you could pull this off for years to come?_

_"You and I are destined to do this....forever."_

The Joker's strained cackle etched itself into his thoughts, scarring his memories.

Bruce sighed and politely exited the conference to fetch some water, which he hoped would clear his thoughts. Behind him, he could hear the commotion start again.

A skinny blonde, covered by her large glasses pushed through with her microphone in hand. "What's your plan of attack?"

The Mayor chuckled. "I can tell you one thing: It's something none of them can refuse."

His eyeliner coated eyes shone in the humility as the crowd exploded again.

-----------------

**The Grin and Bear It Gentlemen's Club  
Lower East Side of Gotham City**

Beer and liquor sloshed around in the gentlemen's club, enlightening the room with fearlessness. They were finally free men, without a care in the world. In the streets of Gotham, they were slaves to the devil. They loved their new home where they could be what sin ordered them to be: drunken bastards smoking, fucking, and filling Gotham with fear.

_The Grin and Bear It _was once a strip club on the lower east side of Gotham. It's once welcoming sign had brought many customers, even the rich, to the joint where boys could be gentlemen enjoying life. The club ran out of business in the 70s, falling to the economic crash period. Gangs picked the deserted area as a chill-pad, opening the bar to only those in the business.

Various gangs had been in and out, and many a blood has been spilled. By the time of the 21st century, it was a hideout for the mob. The previous name was destroyed when the Clown Prince adopted the place as his own.

Drunks sat at the dirty bar, littered by cigarette ash and stained blood. "You going out tonight?"

"Naw. The city is on patrol again. They know they're more powerful. I'm not gonna risk Arkham again. Not without the Boss here."

The scent of marijuana hung in the air like perfume, covering up the stench of vomit, sweat, and sex. A tall blond, in his mid forties strode through the mass of cans and cigarettes on the carpet to get to his favorite spot in the place: the TV. He jumped over the couch, landing in the soft cushions.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha, Jonny. Will ya look on that man on the tube?" The dirty man exclaimed next to him, pointing to the (in his opinion) ugly mug of the Mayor on Gotham Tonight, playing reruns of the speech earlier in the day.

"He thinks he can fuck with us just because Batboy isn't out to play?" he laughed hysterically at himself, almost spilling his eighth beer over the younger man and the couch. Jonny Frost shook his head.

"With the Boss gone, what else can we do?"

"Be a free man, Jonny-boy!" He exclaimed, grabbing onto the blond. "With the Joker gone, there's nobodys that's gonna get us in in trouble! We do whatever the fuck we want to!"

Jonny paid no attention and pointed to the television. "I kind of want to check it out. The Jo--"

The big man, named Monty, growled through yellow teeth, "Don't you say his name. He's gone now, and we're in charge." He backed off before one of the other men saw the threat and would shoot him. He frowned, slightly upset that Jonny hadn't flinched.

"Have a cigarette." The man said calmly, tossing him one and ditched the sofa. Jonny watched him leave, and then grabbed the cigarette, flicking his lighter, and blowing out blue smoke.

Jonny Frost, like most of the Joker's henchmen was human at one point. He was 20 when he married a skinny redhead, Shelly, both as happy as could be. She was gorgeous and all the men wanted to be with her. Frost considered himself lucky, but what he did not know would break him.

They had two kids, a boy and a girl, and they were only eight years old when Frost found out about the affairs his wife had been having. She began stripping, becoming a female escort for money. He left, broken hearted when he was found by the gangs, becoming one of the loyal teams. He had been in and out of the joint five times, swearing it would be his last when he met the Joker.

He helped Frost get back on his feet and in return, served the Joker's every wish. Once his wife found out about his affiliation with the Joker, she shoved divorce papers in his face.

Jonny Frost put all of his trust in the Joker, even though he had earned some close calls from the clown, but the Joker strangely trusted him as well. The only other man the Joker trusted was Thomas Schiff, one of his oldest friends.

Frost exhaled, wondering what the Joker would do…

----------

_Shut that goddamn beeping thing off. _

_Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. _

_Ugh. _

_Bright lights made me wince. It was too goddamn bright, but no it's not the light of heaven._

"Response, normal." Came a female voice as Nurse Ada hovered over the Joker, shining a low-watt flashlight into his eyes for dialation.

_Oh, no. If I was in heaven, I would be at a circus, starring as the main event. I love making people laugh…_

_This seems more like hell to me. I feel like shit._

Four white coats stood over him, with paper masks on. the rummaged through cabinets on the other side of the room, and placed trays of metal objects next to his head._ They sure looked weird from that angle, he thought. _Over the past few days, his breathing had improved and the redhead Ada slid the tube out of his body from the mouth, causing him to cough from having his throat chapped_._

Instantly, he groaned at the pain in his chest.

_Shit, what the hell happened to me?_

A sour feeling rose in the pit of his stomach, but he could not move or say anything to indicate that he was in pain. _Did I… did I overdose again?_

He parted his lips in an attempt to ask them what had happened, when the impulse to yawn overcame him. He squeezed his dark eyes shut, knowing of the impending pain that would rip through his cheeks within moments.

One by one, he could hear the sutures on the inside of his cheeks pop when the force of pressure caused them to. His cheeks throbbed until each stitch had snapped, instantly twinging with a feeling that of a new papercut rubbed with salt. As if the first pains were not enough, the feeling and thoughts of his face in two halves tortured him.

A coppery liquid poured down his throat, causing him to gag.

"His stitches have ripped."

_Stop it! Whatever the fuck it is, stop it! _

_Please._

An Asian man leaned over him, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose to calm him down. Blurs of white and blue covered his vision like a thick fog, as the drug was forced into his lungs with every breath he took and caused the strange world around him to buckle in.

"_Easy…" _He heard, and succumbed to the anesthesia.

* * *

**A/N:** I kind of picture some of Gotham like New York City with all those nice shops and hot dog stands. Yumm. Great, I'm hungry now. Haha oh, and don't you love those tabloids with Batboy? They're the best! I just had to include them in here!

But yes, please tell me what you want to see, what you don't like, what you like, what needs to improve, etc! I know a lot of people are readi this story from the story stats, please review!

-Ididntdoit07 (ArkhamsSmile/TheJOKERevealed on YouTube)


	6. Chapter 5: Man Behind The Mask

Moonstruck Chapter 5

Okay, so I thought I would write this right away. But I got lazy and failed a test, now I need to start studying for once ha-ha. Anyways I realized that I put September 31st as a date in the last chapter. There's no such thing. Oops. I hope this story is not being rushed, but I do realize there will be a lot of chapters. More than 20. So get ready to read a lot! By the way, I think I've read more than half of TDK stories on here, so if you have any, send them to me because I get really bored really easily. PS…Batman/Joker is my favorite (I also go for Labyrinth stuff too)

Also, Dr. H Strange was a little changed up in this story to be a 'good' guy somewhat.

_**Disclaimer: I actually don't own anyone in this story, all owned by the DC Universe (unfortunately). Incase I forget in further chapters, I do not own any of the songs either. While you're at it, download The Dark Knight soundtrack. (you will need it later).  
**_

warning: short chapter

_And here…_

_We…_

_Go!_

_-----_

**Gotham General Hospital  
October 10****th**

_This is who you __**are**__._

_Who you will always be._

Another few days had passed since the Joker was confined in the white halls of Gotham General. As soon as the patient could utter a whisper he was already begging for shock treatment due to his sarcastic antics and verbal assault towards the agitated staff. The behavior turned to violence when a nurse had attempted to give him a bath; she returned with two swollen bite marks on her arm.

At the news of the minor attack, the commissioner leapt into his own action to verbally bribe the patient into telling him the secrets and what his motives were and to warn him of the lovely cell with his name engraved all over it.

Gordon slapped the Joker's file onto the patient's lap in an anxious manner, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The commissioner demanded, staring down the dark rimmed eyes through his thick glasses.

The demon looked up and frowned with his head cocked to the side.

"Is that how you always begin conversations? You might want to lower the official demands, that way you may make friends better!" He beamed.

"You assaulted a nurse. Bit her for that matter! You really think that kind of behavior will please the judge?" Gordon spat at the confused man under him. He continued, "In your condition county wanted to give you leave, at this rate you're headed back the asylum for life!"

The Joker stared at the file in front of him, scanning over the black and white pictures of his painted mug.

"Asylum?" he repeated.

Gordon's voice seemed to drop the hostility at the softer voice, "Y-yes…the new DA subjected you to this bed until further notice."

The patient examined the leather straps holding him to the bed and with the feeling of experimentation; he struggled against the bindings ending in failure. _Well, this sucks._

_Stuck in a hospital. _

_Won't tell me anything._

_Oh, but they yell at me. _

_That's a plus. Imagine writing a skit about this._

_Get into an accident with no recollection and people are assuming you're insane because you won't let a creepy ass old lady give you a bath. Hmm… I probably really could sue them over this bullshit._

_If I'm a patient, don't I deserve to know what I did to get in here? Entirely NOT my fault that I don't recall. Tons of patients nowadays sit in the hospital thinking they were in a wreck, but oh no. They get told what happened to their sorry ass._

_I'm hungry… _The patient mused to himself, knowing that the Commissioner was talking but all he saw was the older man's lips moving. If he had anything good to say, the patient might have given him that time.

There was something different about the Joker. Behind the green hair and leftover makeup the nurses had failed to remove, his personality was if someone had possessed the man and was now living through the shell of the Joker.

"Why, what did I do?" He asked, wanting the reasoning behind all he did.

Assuming it was another sarcastic move for the Joker, Gordon charged, hovering his hell-bent snarl over the Joker's face. "What did you do? Look around the city, Joker! You've been charged with armed robbery, hijacking cars, arson, you're responsible for the deaths of officers, impersonated a guard and homicide!"

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" The last was more commanding as the patient guarded his own territory. "What is this Joker bullshit? If all of you cops and lawyers knew _anything _you would know who I was. You would have checked my prints, DNA, or for fuck's sake just look in my pockets. I could sue you all!"

Gordon was taken aback and straightened himself, just as confused as the patient.

"Go look." The patient sneered, pointing to the door. "Right now." _Asshole. _

The commissioner tried to avoid the very pissed off man's glare. He had to be the Joker. Right? They caught him, he has the scars!

He moved back to the door, making sure that security was keeping an eye on the patient. He came up to the bag of clothes that were not soiled with blood, and snatched the bag off of the door hinge.

He reached inside the colorful sac and pulled out a blue blazer, black vest, khaki pants and a tie when a voice echoed behind him.

"In the pocket, dumbass."

Gordon ignored the comment and rustled with the clothes, knowing the man's eyes were on him like a hawk when something clacked to the floor. He turned his attention to the floor to see a card lying upside down on the floor.

He pinched the edges and brought it up to his face.

His eyes scanned over the letters, watermark, picture, signature, data…

"This can't be…"

-----

**Gotham Major Crimes Unit**

"_No. It's not even possible…"_

"I want DNA tests, fingerprints, blood samples, legality and social security pronto!"

Gordon shouted throughout the MCU as his men scurried along with their individual orders. The Commissioner took the ID into his own hands and sat at his desk with the card perched upon the keyboard.

In the search for identities, he typed in the registration number on the backside of the plastic, slamming the enter key. A whole list of related numbers took up the whole page, but at the very top highlighted in yellow were the same exact numbers on the card. Location: Chicago.

Gordon repeated what was hard to comprehend, "Chicago?" He clicked on the number, and a yellow and green copy off the information on the card showed up. He frowned at the screen and picture that lacked the scars. The clean man in the picture was a blond, young man. The only identifying marks on the man were his dark eyes, and the cleft on his lower lip. `

He estimated the Joker's statistics were about as close to what was listed.

Height: 6'1

Weight: 170

Eye Color: BRN

The Commissioner sighed and rubbed his eyes behind the glasses. _This isn't possible. _He thought and looked down to the card in his hands. "Hmm. Well, 'Jack Napier', it's nice to finally meet the man behind the mask."

---

**Wayne Penthouse**

Bruce Wayne was woken up by the sound of his phone vibrating upon the wooden bedstand. The stress of meeting with the mob was more than enough to tire the billionaire and if he had to defend himself in any way, he needed to be fully rested. Reluctantly, he turned over to see a new text message that read:

"_Might not need to flirt with crime. Come to the hospital – Gordon."_

* * *

Sorry it took so long! Originally, this was supposed to be longer but the other part is taking so long so I figured I would split them up. I also noticed my writing is getting lazy and my spacebar isnt working so well either. Tell me what you think! R&R!

-Ididntdoit07


	7. Chapter 6: Jack Napier

**Moonstruck Chapter 6**

Again, I'm sorry for the wait. This is a pretty long chapter, making up for the shorter one before it. It may go a little fast and my writing has gotten lazy especially with the Mayor and Gordon always talking. It you don't like something, you don't even want to write about it: kind of like a report for school. Sorry to MCU fans! Lol. But anyways, this has a lot of Jack and a little less Bruce. I'm thinking about putting different parts with different POV's instead of just thought bubbles, what do you think? Please review and tell me what you guys think, cause I'm just a lost cause right now. Kind of like poor Jack.

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story, unfortunately. You may recognize a few character names, but their backgrounds are a little changed up. Sorry for that. –Ididntdoit07**_

_And here…_

_We…_

_Go!_

**

* * *

****Gotham General Hospital  
October 10****th**

The patient referred to himself as Jack Napier, a simple man who was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. With the DNA and fingerprints a perfect match to the Joker and the identical scars, the government suspected that 'Jack' was plotting to catch everyone at the weakest point and attack.

When asked about the Joker, the patient complained of a headache and could never finish his thoughts until a sympathetic nurse administered him a vial of morphine for his migraine.

It was time to seek a professional that could crack Jack's thick shell; Garcia and Gordon agreed to call in a specialist to question the Joker as he would not comply to anything else or respond to any names given.

With aid and bribe from a certain billionaire, GCPD was able to contact Dr. Hugo Strange, a specialist in psychiatric work and measuring brain waves.

Wary nurses took the patient in a wheelchair to a large room surrounded by one-way mirrors. His dark eyes scanned the place as if he had never seen anything like it. He was placed in the middle of the room behind a desk with a polygraph, and Strange. Garcia, Gordon, Wayne and security hid behind the one way mirror, watching everything from a safe distance.

Strange was a _strange _looking man indeed, much like a mad scientist in the patient's eyes. _Heh. Too much mercury poisoning, eh? _He continued to stare at the exposed scalp caused by aged balding, and swore he could see his reflection in the greasy skin of his. His large chops were decorated thickly in a _Wolverine _manner hiding his disgusting teeth.

The patient found himself picking out every horrifying detail on the man, down to the very last thread in his torn lab coat or coffee stain on his undershirt. There had to be something else to make fun of…

The Mayor spoke over the intercom. "Dr. Hugo Strange--"

The patient let out a loud snicker, giggling behind his hands.

Garcia sighed. "…Will ask you a series of questions. If you comply and answer them truthfully, we will evaluate you from there."

The green haired patient tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently as a nurse behind him attached black straps to his other hand for the polygraph test. He looked up and around, making eye contact with the mayor through the mirror.

"Okay. We are going to start off easy. Do you know where you are?" The older, British man began.

"A hospital, dumbass." The patient smiled, earning snickers all around. He enjoyed making people laugh, and poking fun at people he did not like. Strange was definitely getting on his nerves. The doctor sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"Y-yes… and do you know why you're here?"

The patient shifted around and shrugged. "I figure I got a boo-boo."

Hugo frowned. "Do you know why you are hurt?"

The patient gave a confused expression, and looked around the premises to see security guarding each corner and decided to change the subject. "Okay, really? Is all the security really necessary? The last crime that I committed, at most, was steal a fucking pepsi."

Everyone looked to each other, confused by the patient's words.

"What the hell is he talking about?" Garcia whispered to the men beside him. They shared the same puzzled looks.

"P-please continue, Dr. Strange…"

Strange cleared his throat and might as well ask the usual question. "Ah… um. What were you doing on the twenty-third of September?"

Jack bit his lip, trying to think of what really did happen that Tuesday. Come on, Napier… give them something they want, what the hell were you doing…

"Fuck…"

Garcia grabbed the mic and spoke demandingly at the patient, "Answer the question."

The patient stared up at Garcia again, giving him the same poisonous look as the Joker's, and sighed. _I'm not going to win this unless—_His thoughts went short as a stabbing pain entered the back of his skull and the needle on the polygraph jumped as he clenched.

Strange frowned, "Please try to concentrate. What happened on the twenty third of September?"

"I…I don't… "

Strange watched the detector and frowned. "Mr. Napier?"

"No."

"No you don't remember?"

Jack tensed his shoulders, trying to focus and get through the test before dealing with his oncoming migraine. Shit. I have to give them what they want to hear, but I'm not guilty. Jack, what the hell were you doing that day…

"Mr. Napier, are you still with us?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry what was the question?"

Strange ran a wrinkly hand through his thinning locks, "Please tell us what you can remember from that day, or the day before. Were you driving, in a bank, what were you doing?"

_I was in a car—No. wait, no I wasn't. I was in my bathroom…_

_Paralyzed. Cold. Uncanny lights, my limbs trembling, and there's blood…_

"Where are you?"

"The bathroom in my apartment…"

_The water was scorching hot, but I'm so cold. Sweat, vomit, and there are needles. Everywhere._

"What's going on in there?"

Jack bit his lip and could feel himself lying already. "I don't know." The room began to tilt in his vision, and eyeballs throbbing more and more. "Ugh…"

"What seems to be the problem?" Dr. Strange leaned forward in his seat. "You look as if you're about to be sick."

"It's called a migraine. I get them sometimes…" He swallowed and wiped the cold sweat from his brow on his sleeve.

"You only get them when… you think about that day, correct?"

The patient nodded.

Strange looked up towards the one-way mirror. "He is not lying."

"Very well." Garcia said, trying to hide the sympathy in his voice. "Carry on, and we will treat you from there on." Once again granting the strange doctor one more chance to sneak any knowledge out of the patient.

"Okay then…" The doctor reached under the desk, rustling with papers and files before finding the correct one. The folder was vanilla with a red number etched onto its side: #4479.

"Jack… is it alright if I call you Jack?"

The patient waved his hand in permission, pretending he gave a shit and took deep breaths to control his body.

"Jack. Tell us what you know about the Joker." Hugo Strange slid the vanilla folder onto the desk beside the polygraph, opening it to reveal the painted mug and all of his information. "Does any of it seem familiar?"

_The Joker… the one everyone has been bugging me about. _

_That place_

_Blood, sweat. The smell of gunpowder. _

Jack held his head in his hands, staring down at the picture that seemed all too familiar to him. There were memories of the accidental overdose but then… they collide into another. _What the hell does any of this mean? _

"Jack?"

He looked up, the spots invading his vision nearly blinding him. "What?"

"What do you see?"

He repeated the question in his mind, as thoughts erupted in his mind as well as his head. "I see… a sinister clown. With green hair…" He mocked, just fucking around.

"Much like yours." Strange added.

"…And he has scars on his face. And a…" he subconsciously reached up, fingertips barely tracing the cleft bottom lip exactly the same as it was in the picture. And then he coughed, swallowed as he tried to fight the bile from rising up his throat.

_It's the same exact…._

_No, no it's not!_

"_Mr. Napier…"_

The scar was outlined by smeared grease paint and accented by makeup caught in the grooves of the wound. On a diagonal, both scars forked out and faded into the dimples on his face.

_It's not true._

"_Mr. Napier!"_

Every sound was that of a jet engine. The wood stains on the desk twisted, turning into a medusa. His limbs, numb; the world; a vague impression.

_That's not me…._

_It's not._

"No…" He shook his head, actually laughing at himself. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Garcia backed away from the mirror. "I've had enough. Take him back."

His hands went to his bandaged cheeks as he stared into the red painted smile upon the clown. It wasn't true. It couldn't be.

He leaned to the side of the table, allowing himself to release the contents of his breakfast once again over the floor.

----

Keeping his word, Mayor Garcia saw to it that Napier was treated and medicated, then held back in his hospital room. He found himself in holding with security again watching his every movie like a hawk after its prey. Finally at peace, the medication knocked him out.

It was night when he awoke and for moments he traced the lines upon the ceiling, how they all merged into one.

He could hear the men outside the door.

There was the British accent, "According to the polygraph test, he was telling the truth. He faltered a bit, but I suppose that would be due to his migraine."

Garcia spoke, "Or he could be using the migraine as a cover up for his lies."

"M-Mayor, my readings are always one hundred percent. If he was to lie, I would know even by the twitch of his brow. Your patient is quite honest."

Bruce Wayne stood beside Gordon as they watched the two bicker about the patient. In all the time that he had known or heard from the Joker, the clown had always been honest.

The Mayor sighed sarcastically, "What is your thesis?"

"The… The Joker has a case of amnesia. He can't remember anything, including himself and his actions. He seems to believe he is this character Jack Napier, quite possibly the man he was before he became the Joker."

Gordon spoke from behind his hands, "Yeah. But can we trust him?"

"No." Blunt.

Garcia walked away. The conversation was too much for him, "Yeah, so what are we going to do with a man who believes he is innocent?"

* * *

"_This is the Joker we are talking about. He is just trying to catch us at our weak point."_

"_Are you saying you want to put him in Arkham again?"_

"_Why not?"_

"_The Joker escaped Arkham before. He can always do it again, Mayor!" _

"_We need to think about the possibilities of what we are dealing with, Commissioner. Whatever I say goes, and we need to keep him under close watch."_

It was around four in the morning when the last of the nurses did their rounds before falling to the curse of sleep at their desks. At the hour, security was gone for a few hours and after weeks of being watched closely by cameras and officers, the patient had figured out their schedule and ways to get his way the hell out of there. He debated for moments, his mind telling him to sit up but his body refused him. Each beep on the EKG monitor annoyed him until he ripped the cord off of his chest and hand, sure that he ripped a few stitches in the process. He sat up and could feel one of the bandages become soggy, but chose to ignore it. He strode into the bathroom, choosing not to turn on the light.

_I have to see it._

He stood in front of the mirror, staring at his dirty, wounded face.

An orange liquid seeped down his legs and onto the floor.

Who was the man in the mirror?

He looked different, older. His once blond curls were a greasy, swamp color. Obviously it had been a while since his last shower. His hands ran over his face, examining each new freckle, scar, blemish. An old stubble tickled his chin and upper lip. _Who was this man? _He asked himself.

The scars on the picture looked identical to what was hidden beneath gauze. Feeling rebellious, the patient tore off the bandages and let them collect at his feet.

Between his cheek and jawbone were black sutures, neatly holding the skin together on either side. He stared in awe, neither frightened nor surprised. He made no reaction to them, as if he had seen it all before and the spoiler was futile. Fingertips traced the stitches, counting each one before yanking at one loose edge with his fingernails.

He recoiled in pain.

His tongue ran around his cheeks, feeling the scar tissue and sutures holding his face together.

And without thinking, he stormed out of the bathroom and towards the cabinets in the room, quickly rummaging through each of them for any kind of tool. And wrapped in the sterile bag was what he was looking for. With it in his hand, he shoved it into the keyhole to the door.

He figured they locked the door because they believed he was a dangerous fellow able to take down everyone once his hands were freed. Jack only knew the techniques from escaping detention so many times during his high school days.

The scalpel clicked and snapped off in the hole. It came loose, and he was free…

The hallways were dark like a subway tunnel, without a single sound to be heard safe for his own footsteps. The air was sticky and unnerving. He was not alone. Looking behind, he could only see small drops of old blood trickling from his wounds.

_I have to get back to Chicago._

He ran, passing by occupied rooms, searching for the nearest exit sign. There had to be one, it was a hospital! He took turns to avoid the nurses at the desk; There it was!

_I'm a 'convicted criminal' who knows what the fuck they would do to me._

_Just get to the exit… find the light._

It was the sign from god hanging between two big doorways ornamented by the flashing red light. Jack sighed in relief and pushed the doors open, to be greeted by a strobe and loud alarm.

He tripped over his own feet, and struggled back the other way. _Shit!_

Officers and the men in blue gathered together in the hallway, switching on their flashlights.

It was a trap.

He cursed under his breath, breaking into a run down the halls. Lights flickered on behind him as if they beckoned on chasing him.

_Find the light…_

A burly guard clad in navy stopped at the room 4479, with the door lying open and a surgical tool lodged into its keyhole. Robotic, he spoke into his radio: "The patient has escaped."

He panted madly against a dark wall, hiding from the men running past his location. Judging by how many footsteps and different melody of their feet and voices, he presumed there were about four of them as well as extra security checking every section of the hospital. Jack had no ego, but he knew he was the popular one and everyone knew his—The Joker's face by now.

_Well, at least the siren is off._

As soon as the guards footsteps became silent, he scurried down the dark corridor lying in front of him.

_Where the fuck is the exit?_

The men in blue waltzed past the dark hall, turning into another adjacent to the one the patient resided in.

He peeked his head out, glancing both ways for movement until he stepped into the light. Heading the opposite direction, he finally found his real savior. In bright green were the four letters that brought sweet relief to his mind: EXIT.

Not willing to even hesitate another moment, he ran for it, coming up on it like it was the finish line in a race.

They heard him, and turned on spot; the light giving him away.

"There!"

"Fuck!" Jack slammed himself into the door, leading down the stairs into a basement. It was not exactly an exit but it would prove to be some place dark where he could hide.

They caught up rather fast, shining the beams of their flashlights upon the escaped patient.

He took two steps at a time, sliding as fast as he could down the stairs. Deciding to gain more distance, he grabbed the railing and jumped down the last flight—

--The side of his bare foot caught the side of the third step, twisting, and forcing all of his weight upon his right ankle. He only had time to gasp before collapsing to the floor.

The men in blue gathered around him.

He dry heaved, gasping in pain and shock. Paralyzed, scared, he laid holding his already swelling ankle. And they took him.

---

**Gotham General Hospital Lobby**  
**October 11****th**

"Well, it's not broken. But he managed to sprain it something awful."

Dr. Thomas Elliot turned to face the men from examining his x-ray scans. In all respect, the men did not care whether or not he had broken his ankle as long as Napier had been caught and they had the night shift security to thank for that. After an excruciating process of making the patient wait for the nurses to arrive, he was sedated and placed in a cast boot.

Debate rose when determining the patient's escape motive. Some believed the Joker was playing another prank, and others agreed with Napier's alibi.

As Gordon always suggested, Bruce Wayne stood behind the men as they determined what to do with the Joker. He chewed on his thumb, wondering if he should take part in any of the actions. W_hy else would they need me?_

"The trick he pulled last night isn't going to help his case." The billionaire stated, almost feeling a bit of remorse for the patient. Napier was confused and scared like a child lost at an amusement park. With no recollection of why everyone hated him, no wonder he attempted to leave.

He immediately bit his lip, realizing how familiar the situation was. _Much like Batman, huh, Wayne? _

Gordon threw his hands up in the air; the patient's face frustrated him to infinite extend and it had been weeks since he had dinner with Barbara. He constantly wished he did not have to deal with the Joker and his many antics. It got old.

He sighed out, "We can't put a man who believes he is innocent in Arkham. And he has no connections to even afford a lawyer."

"Presuming anyone would want to defend his case." Garcia snorted.

Wayne took a deep breath and rolled his eyes in the back of his head to try and ignore the childish bickering. It was all the same now, and the man called Jack Napier was an innocent man pulled into the mess by his alter-ego. He groaned and ran his fingers through the slicked back hair.

He spoke before he could even go through the list of regrets and consequences he may suffer.

"He will stay with me."

Silence; everyone turned their attention to the billionaire and stared at him as if he had four heads. "Wh-what?"

_Jesus, Wayne. What the hell are you getting yourself into?_

"I said he can stay with me." He paused to register his own words. "Th-the Joker is dangerous, yes. But this is another man as he claims, and if he does stay with me I can keep a close eye on him until we have proof of his sham."

The Commissioner's mouth hung open, unable to talk as if he were dumb. "Wayne, you--"

"I think it's a good idea." Garcia slapped his hands together with a big smile. The Mayor didn't give a shit what the outcome was as long as the Joker was no longer his or the city's problem. "You are fully willing to take the Joker into your care and watch him, even if that means months?"

The brunet tensed up, with his subconscious screaming at him. S_ay no, Bruce! Save yourself._

"Yes. I will keep watch."

_You're weak, you are so weak. Why did you say that? You're going to regret that every day from now the rest of your life, assuming the Joker doesn't kill you first._

The Hispanic smiled, "I like it. Simple and easy to remember."

A lightbulb sparked in the Commissioner's head, "And this way we have the home advantage." He snapped his fingers to catch the men's attention once again. Wayne hung his head, rubbing his temples and forehead.

"The mob isn't going to do anything if we have their leader. We have the Joker, and with that we can put at least half of Gotham's criminals in county."

_Well, there is that thesis. _

The Mayor placed a hand on both men's shoulders, "Brilliant thinking, gentlemen." He nodded towards Bruce. "And Wayne: we will talk about this later, but now its time for you to propose."

* * *

Well it seems my writing is getting lazy. But oh well. Tell me what I should change, how I should continue it, comments, questions R&R!

-Ididntdoit07


	8. Chapter 7: The Proposal

**Moonstruck Chapter 7 (RE-EDITED for a 3rd time)**

Hey guys, Ididntdoit07 here as always. Shorter chapter, but whatever. I wanted to update and get this chapter over with. In all honestly, I couldn't figure out anything else to put in this chapter because of a little case of writers block. Finals are coming up for this college freshie and I wanted to give you guys something to read and hold onto until I update again. Depending on my motivation to study, the next chapter will be posted next week or the week after. Or who knows, I might write something in class and update earlier. Bruce meets Jack in this chapter, obviously. I hope you guys like it!

NOTE: Sorry I keep reposting this, but the format is killing me and the little separations I made for the damn paragraphs isn't working. -_-

**Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any characters involved in it.**

_And here…_

_We…_

_Go!_

* * *

For the many years in his life that Bruce Wayne has faced the terrors of Scarecrow and the Joker, as well as haunted houses and his parents' death, the task proved to frighten him more than anything. _Oh, God. What is Alfred going to think of this? _It seemed like forever as he walked down the hallway to the patient's room where he could already hear Napier yelling at some security guard followed by some curse words Bruce had no idea even existed.

_At least he's the only one in the perimeter; imagine the kind of complaints he would get from families. _Unexpectedly, he chuckled to himself at the thought.

He came upon the room, standing in front of the heavy door and knocked.

_There goes your life. Right out that door._

A muffled grunt came behind the door, and it unlocked with a click, and a ginger cop stuck his head out.

"Can I help you?"

_Just run away, Bruce. You don't have to do this. _"Yeah. The Mayor and Commissioner Gordon gave me permission to talk to the patient."

He glanced past the navy clad shoulder and could see Jack Napier staring at him with an eyebrow raised. He was still dirty, and probably reeked. The billionaire chose that a shower would be the first thing Jack would get if he accepted the proposal. He looked like shit.

The officer frowned and backed up to open the door, giving him the authorization to come in to talk to the insane man.

Bruce stared the large man in the eyes. "Would you give us some privacy?"

All he earned was the dark eyes glaring back at him.

He sighed, and reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, and flashed a one hundred bill at the man. "Would you give us some privacy now?" He lowered the money, knowing the ginger's eyes were following it. It took a moment, and then he nodded.

"Now you're speaking my language."

Bruce smiled and snuck the bill into the man's sweaty palms and pushed through the door, switching places with the cop. As soon as the man's large figure was clear, he shut the door and locked it.

* * *

The ginger cop, Stewart grinned at his ability to get money from being as stubborn as an ass. He would have let Bruce Wayne in without the money if he never offered any, and now it was time to spend the money on a nice dinner. He raised the money to his eyes. George Washington stared him back in the eye with a smirk.

"Son of a…"

* * *

The brunet stopped at the door, staring at its rings in the wood. He knew the Joker was staring right at him and could feel it as if someone was breathing coldly on the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and walked towards Napier.

The man looked pissed off. His escape plan had failed and resulted in a disability. The man was trapped and could only watch the loop of news on the small television. Jack supposed the man was scared of him, and might as well not worry anyone else as it would contradict his 'friends' speech to Gordon. He turned his attention to his fingers as he picked at the dirt underneath the nails.

Bruce took the invitation and pulled a chair sitting nearby next to the bed Jack Napier sat at.

"Hey." He began.

No answer, but he knew the man could hear him.

"Um…." _Shit. How do I start? _He found his eyes locked onto the Joker's scars decorated with dark stitches and bruising.

"You bribed ginger."

Bruce snapped his attention to the patient, now staring back at him. "Huh? Oh yeah."

"You shouldn't have given him Benjamin."

The billionaire almost smiled at his wit, "I didn't."

Jack turned himself to face Bruce with his eyebrows raised, and shrugged as if asking: _Then what? _

"I gave him a dollar. I switched them."

And then… was Jack Napier smiling at him? His question was answered when the patient began to chuckle quietly. "Bastard deserved that."

_Okay, maybe this will be pretty easy. He seems… as if he doesn't quite want to kill me._

As soon as the situation seemed to become at ease, the tension riled up once more. The Batman could feel the poisonous eyes examining him, for every mark upon his skin and hair on his body. Small circular scars etched their way up his forearm embellishing the nasty white scar running in between them. The hair was uneven there.

Jack exhaled deeply, "You been in a few accidents before?"

Bruce nodded as he pulled down his sleeve over the scar. "Yeah, I broke my arm as a kid, but I don't think any of them can compare with what happened to you."

Jack looked down at himself. The IVs and harnesses were gone, but he felt more helpless than ever. He had been shot, stabbed, lacerated, and probably had more scars to see once naked. "Well, I doubt you just wanted to come here and chit-chat about scars. What do you want?"

_There's that defensive attitude I've heard before._

"I have a proposition for you."

"Well it better not be a bullshit bribe like ginger."

"No, I… it's for your own benefit."

They exchanged a glare between one another as if Jack was testing his trust for the billionaire. He had to admit he was very curious as to what it was now if he got something out of it. Bruce waited patiently for the patient to say something. He pondered for a moment, sighed, and reached out.

"Hold my hand."

Bruce blinked. "What?"

Jack rolled his eyes, holding out his dirty palm towards the billionaire. "Not like that, Romeo. Just do it." He waved his own in front of Bruce, waiting for the wary man to do as he says.

_He's testing his trust for me… might as well._

Hesitant, he did so and was immediately greeted by a strong grasp and Jack leaned in, pulling the man towards him. Thoughts ran quickly through Wayne's head. The Joker was either going to kiss him, kill him, or break his arm. Either way, it was not good, and he thought about just twisting around and decking the patient.

"Calm down." Jack growled, trying to wrestle the fidgety billionaire. "Goddamnit, I'm not going to hurt you. Come here… I can always tell when someone is lying by holding their hand."

Bruce gave him a daring look.

"Just go with it; now what's this proposition?"

Bruce tried to hide the uncertainty in his voice to pass his own lie detector test "The Mayor and Commissioner Gordon agreed that it would be wrongful of you to stay in Arkham Asylum when you are suffering a case of amnesia."

Jack snorted mockingly. "So that's what they're calling it?"

He nodded in response, "County is most likely not going to believe your defense because of the Joker. Plus, we are not allowed to let you leave Gotham until your case is heard or until further proof of investigation. Once you heal, you're going to have no place to go, not anything. So…"

"So?"

"With your accord, you can live with me until then."

Jack muttered an 'uh-huh' and had felt no difference in the billionaire's hand or tone. He was telling the truth as well, something that came hard to believe nowadays. "You're not like the others. But only an 'idiot' as they say would probably take me in. And you don't exactly look like an idiot."

Bruce nodded as thanks for the compliment he supposed. "I just… I know what it's like to be cast out." _Like a leper, just as Joker said. _

Jack frowned, and spoke no words. But his eyes asked for more.

"Society is a weird thing, Jack. People are willing to believe anything as long as they are on the right side. They don't like to be wrong about anything and will even cast aside their allies for their benefit. And I know for a fact, it's not fun to be alone in a world that couldn't care for your opinion."

Jack sat back to himself, contemplating the ideas through his mind. He did not want to be alone and more than anything definitely did not want to be held by that Commissioner.

"You would be doing yourself a favor." Bruce stood and placed the chair back in the corner. "Think about it." He threw his card down on Jack's lap, leaving.

He exited through the door, leaving the patient to decide.

"W… wait!"

Bruce sighed. It was final.

_Now time to give Alfred a heart attack…_

* * *

"Uhh… Alfred?"

"Yes, sir? What is that tone in your voice, did you get in trouble or something of that matter?"

Bruce pulled his cell phone away from his ear to mouth to himself, "How does he even know?" and turned back to the phone. "I, uh… I made a mistake."

Alfred took the opportunity to sit down on one of the island chairs in the penthouse kitchen. "Oh, dear."

After delivering the news to his old friend, Alfred Pennyworth was speechless for what seemed to be minutes on end until he finally accepted the fact that Rachel's killer was to be taking rent inside the penthouse.

After all, Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

_What could go wrong?_

* * *

Short chapter, but whatever. I felt I needed to update. Much love!

-Ididntdoit07


	9. Chapter 8: The Bond

So sorry about the wait guys! I know its been like months. I've been in school, out of school, got a job, dealt with drama, was getting ready for all these conventions and just didn't have the time so again I do apologize. I wanted to get this chapter out so you guys know I haven't stopped this fiction. Hopefully things will pick up again and I'll throw in some fillers before more of the plot comes in so it's not all rushed. I'm actually planning a sequel for this, so look out for that after this one is finished. If you're not offended by mpreg or slash (if you were offended by slash, you probably shouldn't continue reading) but go ahead and check out Scars We Share, another Batman Begins/TDK fiction. I noticed they're alike somehow… weird. But thanks so much for your support and for sticking around, I hope you enjoy this chapter even though my writing has gotten a bit lazy. It will pick up later. Read and review, tell me anything you want even if it's a flame. I don't care. Bruce might be a little OOC, but try taking in a rude amnesic Joker. Fun times, fun times. Anyways, on with the chapter!

**Moonstruck Chapter 8**

**(again, I don't own anything. If I did, this would actually happen.) smilie face!**

* * *

Jack stared straight into the grainy leather on the back of Alfred's headrest as they drove through the city. He believed he had never seen Gotham before and the veil of rain on either side of the car camouflaged its beauty. The car ride was boring, and brought a strange peace to his soul. After Garcia gave the orders, he was finally a free man.

-Until assigned house arrest under Wayne's watch.

Bruce turned to his prisoner. "City of Wonder, some call it."

Jack only muttered something, void to the billionaire's encyclopedia.

The billionaire stared at the man next to him, and how disgusting he looked. Stray makeup still caked parts of his face, his hair matted in a greasy mess, fingernails unkempt and dirty, and he smelled of wet dog. _I'll give Alfred a vacation to Hawaii for ten weeks if he just gives him a bath._

Bruce shifted in his seat, attempting once again to make small talk. "So you really don't remember anything?"

"Nope." Came the annoyed reply.

"I guess it's better than…" He trailed off, knowing he was making a complete fool out of himself and mentally smacked himself in the face.

_Awkward…_

"So even I make billionaires uneasy in a car ride. I must have really unnerved you."

Bruce scoffed a little. _You have no idea._

Alfred glanced into the rearview mirror; even he was perturbed at the strange conversation.

"So… do you like Frank Sinatra?"

The scarred man gave a twisted and incredulous expression. "How should I know?"

_This sucks._

Bruce gave a long exasperated sigh, and returned to frowning at the window.

The rest of the car ride was as awkward as a blind man in a lingerie department, with the only sounds being the rain and muted tunes of Frank Sinatra on the radio. Jack was introduced to the penthouse, and made himself at home by tossing his bags on the guest bed he was given.

"Uh, is there anything I can get for you?" Bruce suggested, unsure of what else to do.

Jack tapped a thumb to his lips, thinking to himself and beamed, "Yeah a scotch on the rocks. Actually hold the ice."

He smirked at Bruce before tossing his crutches on his new bed.

The brunet watched him hobble to the bed before sitting down and looking around the room. He could feel a sarcastic tone rise in the back of his throat to shoot back, "Anything else I can get you?"

No response.

He nodded, shutting the door. "Alfred will come get you for dinner."

Through the thick wooden door, he could hear the resident mumble in sarcasm. Bruce Wayne sighed to himself. _Have you regretted it yet?_

"Alfred, am I making a mistake?"

"Yes, you are Bruce. You're drinking coffee at this hour."

Bruce rolled his eyes and sat the warm mug on the counter. "I mean with him. The Joker, or whatever he wants to be called." He walked over to the kitchen table in the penthouse with the kind butler following him and they sat face to face.

"What would you have done?"

"I would have my doubts, as you do sir. But it was not my choice."

He sighed. "Jack is just… different from the Joker. He's just like a rogue teenager believing everyone around him hates him." He stopped to think to himself. _Well, that is the position he is in right now. Don't you have any sympathy for him?_

"He's lost, Alfred. Even though he has hurt us in the past, we would be no better tossing him back to the sharks."

"I suppose so," The Britt gave a half smile, unsure of his master's motives.

"But you best be cautious with this man, Master Wayne."

"I know."

Alfred grabbed a tray of freshly prepared steamed chicken and rice, presenting it towards the billionaire, who shed a face of folly. He placed the silver tray in his masters hands, "You had better start bonding with this fellow before he bonds with your blood."

Bruce sneered jokingly. "I should have left you in the rain…"

* * *

_Oh this is ironic, funny to say the least. The Joker—after stabbing me, throwing Rachel out of my window, breaking and entering my penthouse—is my guest. And I'm supposed to serve him with a phony grin on my face?_

_And to think a day ago you warmly invited him into your home where he seemed like a lost soul. _

_Just drop the act, Bruce. Walk in there with a stern look and set the ground rules. No knives, no guns, no driving, nothing but a TV and a bed. He is still a 'prisoner' after all. _

_Maybe he shouldn't even watch TV, God knows what GNN would say about the Joker. _

"_Wealthy billionaire Batman takes in estranged Joker as accomplice. _

_Yeah it would be nice to see that on the front page._

_Well, here goes…_

_Don't choke, speak clearly and set your rules you damn schizophrenic._

He sighed as he came to the wooden door and knocked with the tip of his shoe. He did not earn a reply, but pushed through the unlocked door, and he froze completely at the sight before his eyes.

There was Jack—erm, the Joker propped with his back on the bed and legs in the air as he attempted to remove the brace on his leg with a piece of broken glass from the shower frame. He was determined as ever to get the brace off and did not even stop when he spotted his host in the door with dinner.

_Set them. Now._

"Y-you know there's Velcro on the cast for a reason—makes it easier to remove."

Jack never took his eyes off of his handy work, "In case you haven't noticed, they plastered this thing to me."

_Smooth._

"Your leg will take weeks to finally heal."

"I don't give a shit, I don't need it."

Bruce slammed the tray down on the nearest table and walked over to the bathroom where the front panel was completely shattered, and turned his cold gaze to the new resident. "Thank you… for assassinating my shower."

After cutting through a good bit of the plaster, he took a break and shrugged. "You're a billionaire, you should be able to replace it no problem."

_Touche._

He strode over, becoming very irritated with the man and snatched up the tattooed wrist. "Give me the glass."

Jack did not even bother fighting, and slashed it across the host's palm, drawing blood. The billionaire recoiled quickly, shaking his hand as it splattered blood across the floor and his dry cleaned oxford. The so called prisoner stared in shock at what he had done, but shook the thought away and went back to hacking at his cast.

Angrily, Bruce lunged and twisted the smaller man's ankle, causing him to drop the shard and groan.

"Oh, fuck you!"

Growing irate, Bruce pinned the clown's arms above his head. "Okay, one. You do not fuck with me or anything or anyone. I will not hesitate to set the dogs on you and you will spend the rest of your time in a cell. Two, you abide by all the rules here, if not, same consequence. Three, the only things you will get are in this room-"

Jack sneered, "And four, if you don't let go of me I will make your life a living hell."

"You already have." He growled.

_Killing my loved ones._

_Crashing my party._

_Wrecking my Lamborghini_

_Making me get a rabies shot._

_Turning the GCPD on me._

_Caring for you._

"Do you have any idea how much I've done to release you? After all-"

"Listen. The only reason I agreed to stay with so was so I didn't have the pigs breathing down my back. You think I want to go to Arkham?" He spat.

Bruce stared down the man, letting the blood from his palm stain the pillow beneath them. He said nothing and decided he should at least listen to what the man had to say. "Do you even know what it's like to have people accusing you constantly of things you have no recollection of even doing? Do you know what it's like to believe you're an innocent man and find out you're just a psychopath like the rest of the dirt out there?"

The billionaire could only bite his lip and blink.

_This is the Joker. _

_But he bares absolutely no resemblance to that inhuman menace. Everything is different; his voice, the way he talks, his mannerisms, but he is still violent. And short tempered. _

"Get off of me."

Bruce looked down embarrassed and released his hold on the man, and wiped his bloody palm on his shirt, clearly leaving a stain. He frowned and gazed around the room trying to find something else he could turn his attention to.

"Listen okay? I really didn't even plan to stay here; as long as I got out of Jimbo's possession, I didn't care where I went. To be honest, I was going to leave as soon as you gave me a chance."

Offended, Bruce snorted and angrily climbed off of the bed. He slammed the aluminum tray on the bedside table. "Here. Dinner." He growled, before shutting the door.

* * *

Well I'll be working on the next chapter when I wake up. It's 4:02AM right now and I just had to update this. So I did! Tell me what you think in a review please! About 10 THOUSAND people are reading this, 10,000 hits! Thanks so much guys, it wont take as long to update (god i hope not) I'm off to bed. R&R!

-Ididntdoit07


	10. Chapter 9: Revelation

**Hey guys, here is chapter 9 to Moonstruck! I need to figure out a title for this one before I post it... Hmm... Again, sorry it took a while. Next chapter will be up soon. Just so you guys know, I do not own Dirty Dancing, Saw, or Frank Sinatra. I kind of wish I did though, or any Batman characters. Let's screw all the preface and get to the story.**

_And here…_

_We…_

_Go!_

* * *

Still enraged by the previous events, Bruce washed off his hands in the kitchen sink to rid himself of dried blood. The nerve of him was hard to believe. _Take deep breaths, Wayne. You already have high blood pressure, just calm down. _After breathing slowly in and out, he shut off the faucet and wrapped a small cloth around his palm.

"Did everything go as planned, sir?"

Bruce took a sheer breath inwards as Alfred caught him off guard, and turned around, trying to hide the wound in his sleeve. "Um… not quite."

Alfred narrowed his eyes, "Is something the matter?"

"No, you just caught me off guard is all."

Alfred's gaze lowers towards the young man's waist, noticing a bloody rag in his master's hands. He sighs, "I said be cautious, did I not Bruce?"

The brunet looks down, disappointed that he got caught and rusted around uncomfortably. "We had a little… accident." He felt bad about lying to Alfred, his oldest friend.

There was a loud bang from above them and caught both of their attention, drawing away from the fact that their new resident was a violent thing. _Fuck, what is he doing now? _They strode out of the kitchen together, waiting at the base of the stairs for another sign of trouble.

Alfred hid behind the billionaire, acting like a subconscious. "Should we check it out?" Bruce asked. _God, I feel like I'm in a cheap horror movie._

Alfred backed away from the stairs, waving his hands. "I don't know what you mean by 'we.'"

Slightly irritated, Bruce ran upstairs despite the butler's stubborn will.

He stormed into the room, ready for anything.

"What now?"

He found Jack sitting on the tile beside the bath tub, obviously having given up from trying to climb into the Jacuzzi. Once noticing the billionaire in the room, he looked down in embarrassment at his failed attempts.

Each of them shared the same expression: shock.

Bruce bit his lip, "What are you doing…?"

_Déjà vu much? At least he hasn't broken the tub… yet._

Jack looked up, barely able to look over the rim of the tub and sighed in failure. "I kind of wanted to take a bath."

_Great, here comes another awkward silence. What did you expect, Wayne? This is the Joker in your house, sure he has a few mental issues but did you just expect everything to go smoothly? You're not Batman here._

_Hmm. Come to think of it, bringing out the suit and threatening him might make things a bit easier…_

_Wow, Bruce… have you really stooped to that level?_

He sighs.

_Look at him, though. This is the same man you felt sorry for in the hospital. This is the same man with the tubes and wires all over his body, with bandages everywhere. He doesn't know what to do._

_Bruce, I think you are schizophrenic._

"A-are you alright?" He asked, not really thinking over what he said.

Jack looked at his pitiful position on the floor and snorted, "Yeah, Bruce, I'm _fine_."

The third one walked into the room, getting a good glimpse at the Joker sitting on the floor like a punished child. The Brit looked to his master, puzzled.

"Uh, sir, is everything alright in here?"

He turned to the butler, nudging his face into Alfred's collar, whispering "Play nice, we might have to help bathe him."

Alfred raised his voice. "I beg your pardon?"

In height of the situation, Bruce raised his voice as well, "Look at him, he can't even stand up on his own!" _It's your own damn fault for cutting off your boot._

The helpless man waved his hands, "Hello! I'm still here!"

Bruce looked to him momentarily, "Shut up!" and goes back to Alfred. "Help me. Please."

Jack nibbled on his lip, clearly irritated by the fact he was being ignored and gossiped about within the same room.

"Listen okay. Look at him, he looks like a homeless man and smells worse."

"Still here by the way." Jack beamed, knowing neither of them really cared.

Alfred sighed once more, looking at the pitiful, dirty man sitting next to the tub knowing if he did not help his master, he would be obliged for something else the billionaire might think up. "How many bottles of shampoo do you need?"

Bruce smiled, "I'll get the shampoo; you're bathing him."

Jack frowned. _Shit._

* * *

After fighting to help Jack into the bathtub and the thirty minutes it took to convince him to get undressed, it was bath time. Embarrassment was clearly defined on the young man's face as the billionaire and butler cleaned him as if he were a pet dog.

The bathroom smelled of strawberry shampoo and body wash; something Alfred had picked out.

_Figures. _Bruce thought as he scrubbed the man's back with a rag, trying to remove each grain of dirt that had probably built up over the weeks of no bathing. _If the Joker ever regains his memory, there is no way he is ever going to let Bruce Wayne live this down. Just get it over with._

"Don't say a word about this to anyone."

Bruce leaned over to make eye contact with Jack.

"You either."

"Duh."

Alfred smiled in amusement as he soaked the shampoo into Jack's hair with his bare hands. "You two would make an interesting pair."

"WHAT?"  
"WHAT?"

They both shouted, turning to Alfred with the same disgusted expression on their faces. Jack shook his head, faking a gag while the butler chuckled to himself—he had always loved messing with people and the new boy was just too much fun.

Bruce smiled through clenched teeth, "Don't ever say that again, Alfred."

"My apologies, sir." He poured a pitcher of water over Jack's head, noticing as the bath water began to turn green. "Hmm…That nasty color in your hair is finally coming out… you have some nice blonde under all that green."

_So we finally get to see the man behind the mask._

Jack was a strangely attractive young man with curly blond locks reaching his collar, and soft brown eyes that Bruce could not stop admiring. It seemed as if the bath had taken five years off of his suspected age, and Bruce knew he was wrong when he thought the man was in this 30s. _This man is not the Joker, Bruce, don't treat him like he is. _

Alfred tossed their new resident a warm towel, "Take a look in the mirror, so you can see the real you."

Limping across the tiles he came to the sink, looking at his reflection. Every bit of grease paint had been carefully removed from every crease and pore in his skin, revealing his tan complexion and every single freckle and blemish upon his face.

The butler draped another towel over Jack's shoulders to keep him warm and smiled, "Trust me, you do look a lot better."

Jack nodded softly in thanks, returning to ogling at the mirror.

Alfred left him be, walking over to Bruce as he whispered in his ear. "It would be wise to make up for earlier."

* * *

Bruce knocked on Jack's bedroom door for the third time, hoping there would not be anything else out of the ordinary. Two awkward entrances was enough, and if it were not for Alfred he knew he would have given up a long time ago.

Holding two mugs of hot tea in his hands, he pushed the door aside to let himself in.

_Please, Dear God…_

Jack was lying on top of the bed, flipping through the 370 channels on the television before bedtime. He looked over to acknowledge Bruce and sat up, turning the volume down. "Yeah?"

The brunet walked in, strangely feeling more comfortable around Jack since their bath session. He strode over to the other side of the bed, handing him the warm mug of tea.

"What's this?"

"I-I just thought I would bring you some tea before bed."

Jack gave a small smile, "Thanks." He sat it down on the night stand, taking a deep breath. "Is your hand alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It's alright, it stopped bleeding." _That… was unexpected._

"Sorry."

_Even more unexpected. _Bruce looked down at the white bandage wrapped around his palm, caressing it gently. "It's okay. Happens all the time."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? You get stabbed often?"

"No, it was just an exaggeration." He quickly retorted. _That was a little too close, Bruce. Switch the situation around, concentrate on something else. _He found himself staring into those soft eyes once again, caught in their trance.

"You okay? Bruce?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, sorry."

Bruce bit his lip and looked around the entire room, trying to take his attention off of staring at the kid. That was when he noticed the glorious amounts of blood and muted people screaming on the television screen. "Jesus, what are you watching?"

"Saw."

_Disturbing._

"It was either that or Dirty Dancing; I've already seen it too many times."

"You remember watching Dirty Dancing?" Bruce wondered.

Jack nodded after taking a sip from the hot tea, "You know, I may have _lost _my memory, but I can still recite every line from that movie. I think twenty times was good enough for me. The music is my weakness."

_What?_

"I'm a big sucker for the Hollies. And Frank Sinatra."

Bruce almost laughed. "You like Frank Sinatra?"

Jack raised up a finger in defense, "Hey. You're not a man if you don't listen to _The _Man. I mean, you do listen to him being rich and all…?"

The billionaire shook his head, in shock at how easy it was to talk to him now. "If I say no, are you implying that I'm a woman?"

"You already did."

_Nice comeback._

Jack hummed the tune to _Luck be a Lady _as he sat his mug down, organizing the covers and sheets around his body to keep warm.

Bruce took the note. "Well, am I going to have to lock your door and windows when I go to bed?" He asked, trying to break the ice as he sat up.

Jack shrugged, "Maybe. Not tonight though, I am kind of tired."

"Good." He approached the doorway when Jack called out his name.

"Bruce. Thanks, for everything."

Caught within the moment, Bruce nodded to him before shutting the door.

* * *

I made a lot of references in this chapter. The Joker seemed like he would listen to Frank Sinatra? I'm a little bit of a sucker for that man as well, and I also have seen Dirty Dancing a billion times already. Kind of freaky that Jack likes Saw though, huh? Give me your feedback. I promise the next chapter will be up soon, I already have half of it written already, just had to add this one as a filler so it wouldn't move too quickly. I've been getting this one done in a hurry so I don't lose you readers, which is why it isn't very full of many sentences. If that makes sense at all.

Goodnight!


	11. Chapter 10: Freedom

**Moonstruck Chapter 10 (technically 11):**  
**Freedom**

Finally! This chapter is done! This was the most painful, difficult chapter to write. Mainly because nothing really crazy happened and its more of a filler than plot. But don't let that keep you! I know you readers love the interactions between Bruce and Jack, so I added some more in here. Don't worry though, guys. The next chapter is super easy to write because a lot of stuff happens in it, but I won't spoil anything for you. Hope you guys like twists too (everything is pre-written from this point on!) So yes I will be back to updating on a regular basis instead of months and months away, my bad and a thousand apologies about that! But anyways, I love you readers and thanks so much for sticking with this story, I know it sucks to wonder what happens next and then you have to wait months later. Kind of like Lost, huh? So let's get on with the story!

Who do I own? Nobody.

_And here..._

_we..._

_Go!_

* * *

**Four Weeks Later**  
**Wayne Manor**

After months of construction and over millions of dollars in restoration and filling out every room, the two towers were almost finished. The land around where the mansion sat only waited to turn green come spring, and once again Wayne Manor would be restored to its place. The black Maybach pulled around the gravel circle on the far side of the mansion, parking in its old designated area.

"Take a good look, Master Wayne." Alfred smiled as he exited the driver's side of the car, looking up to the very top of the mansion. "A lot has been done within the past year sir. Maybe we may move back in around this early summer?"

Excusing the new member to their trio out of the car first, Bruce smiled at the work. "Yeah, it's good to see this old place instead of that heap of rubble."

Jack's mouth hung open as he admired the place, taking note of every detail in the cobblestone and gates. "It's definitely bigger than what I saw in postcards…"

Bruce smirked, turning towards the man he had actually started bonding with. "Yeah, it's actually about a sixth bigger than the first. We wanted to add an east wing as well as expand the basement."

Jack scoffed, "Shows what you can do when you're a billionaire."

Bruce sent him a 'watch it' look.

"If I may interject sir…" Alfred said, coming in between the two. "You are the one being catered by one of the wealthiest men in the world, have some respect."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Thanks, Al."

The elder strode over to his young master, following him as they scanned the perimeter. Bruce Wayne smirked at their antics. "Alfred, don't worry. You two will get along… someday."

He shook his head, "It's not that sir. I worry about how you have managed to turn Gotham's favorite allies into the best of friends within a months time."

"Alfred, we're not best friends. We're not even really friends. We just…tolerate each other more now."

"Yes, but you mustn't forget who he is."

"I haven't, Alfred. I'm still being cautious."

After the first week, things became homier for Jack at his new residence despite the weekly check-ins by the Commissioner to make sure everything was alright, to Jack's dismay. The billionaire began to trust the young man, allowing him his own privacy and freedom around the house.

He had not been left alone since his first night in the penthouse, and being set free and able to join Bruce and Alfred on a small trip was surely refreshing. He took in deep breaths of the clear air, treating every single moment outside as if it were his last.

Bruce strode up to him, faking a smile. "So, what do you think?"

Jack shrugged. "It's nice, I admit. But…" He trailed off, staring into the dirt.

The billionaire searched for more, "But…?"

The blond shook his head, smiling a little. "I don't know, I was just hoping you guys would actually let me out more."

Bruce sighed, "You know why we can't do that…"

Jack scoffed, "No, I actually don't Bruce. You try waking up in a hospital with people accusing you of murder and treating you like a piece of shit that doesn't even deserve the own freedom to go outside." The short argument was ended as he limped away, heading back to the car.

"Jack…" He frowned, attempting to chase after him. "Jack!"

He sighed in frustration; every argument ended the same way. It had always ended about freedom, not getting to go outside, see the city, do anything besides sitting in his given room and watching TV all day. Jack would always throw a fit and run off like a child, leaving Bruce to clean up the usual mess he caused in the house.

_Four weeks have been hell for the both of us._

_You try being the very hero Gotham once had and retiring to take care of your sorry, ungrateful ass. If it weren't for me you would be locked up in Gordon's cage._

Alfred placed a hand on his young master's shoulder, "Sir, I know it is difficult containing such a strong willed man in such a _small _place as the Penthouse. But, he seems to want even bigger things."

_Of course he wants bigger things. We have made him stay in the same exact place for a month, why would e not want to leave and explore the outside world? What could be so wrong?_

_Oh, right. He's the Joker, Bruce. There is no doubt about those scars…_

_What does the most dangerous man in the entire north east think of?_

_Freedom._

Bruce nodded, admitting they had to let him out sooner or later. "I know, and that's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

He limped himself back into his room, wincing as the pain in his leg increased from the slow healing process. He hopped over to the side of his bed, throwing himself onto the mattress and burying his face into the pillows.

Jack held his head as it began to throb beyond his control. Teeth clenched together, he groaned to himself. _I'm so fucking tired of all this bullshit they put up on me…_

_Do they ever get bored of tormenting the same person?_

_What am I going to do outside this place, burn down buildings and rob banks?_

Sighing as he held his head, Jack rustled through the bed-stand's drawers attempting to locate the orange bottle of medication prescribed for the pain.

He scrambles until he finds the bottle, quickly unscrewing the safety cap and dumping one white tablet onto his tongue.

_Knock, knock, knock._

He shoots a glare towards the wooden door that he knows will open within the next few seconds. The billionaire peeked in.

"Hey."

Jack stared at him, obviously not wanting to even lay eyes on the man. "Hi." He says coldly, chewing hard on the sour tablet.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

Expression unchanging he shrugged and rolled his eyes, "Yes. But as I can already tell and know that this has happened before you're just going to ignore me and sit on that fucking chair giving me another lecture."

Bruce faked a small smile, "You're on the dot."

Jack gave him an annoyed smirk before tossing the bottle of medication back into the drawer. As he predicted, Bruce strode in without the permission, taking his seat in the old lounge chair. "What are those?"

Jack sighed, "Not that it's any of your fuckin' business but the meds gave em' to me before I went with you. Said it might help with the pain and migraines."

Bruce tilted his head as he thought to himself. _I don't remember them writing a prescription for you. _

_Oh well._

"A-anyways… I wanted to talk about earlier…"

"What's to talk about? It's always the same answer. _Don't go out, Jack. We can't let you out, Jack. Jack, you know why we can't let you into the city." _He whined in a high pitched voice, attempting to sound like Bruce Wayne.

Bruce scoffed, "Do I really sound like that?"

Jack picked at the fibers in the old sheets upon his bed, trying his best to block the man out from his mind. During the usual lectures he would start playing out scenes from his favorite movies or pinching Bruce's head between his forefingers, only catching the last lines of the conversation.

"I wanted to tell you about…"

_Blah, blah, fucking blah. What is it today? Alfred forget to change his tampon, Gotham is too much of a danger for me, I'm not someone's 8 year old kid. I know how to look both ways when crossing the street. 'Remember to wash behind your ears!' Jesus. _

_If I wanted to hear that same stuff again I would live at some in-laws. _

_Do I even have in-laws? Was I married? _

_Oh there he goes again, still ranting._

_If you ever had anything interesting to say I might listen. _

_I was always a good listener._

_It's just that your stories suck._

_Just like how Jim-Bob sucks his own…_

"…And after I return we'll let you have a day off."

Snapping back into reality, Jack could only focus on those two last words. "Day off…?"

"You weren't listening to a thing I said?"

"No—what do you mean day off?"

Bruce shook his head as he got out of his lounge chair, "You would know what I was talking about if you actually paid attention for once."

"No! Tell me!"

Bruce shrugged it off as he came to the door he had entered moments before, "Oh, nothing. Just saying if you were patient for another few days I'll let you out."

Jack jumped up, "Out of…" He bit his lip, not wanting to anticipate something that could possibly let him down. God bless Bruce Wayne's soul if he were lying. "Here…?"

He smiled, "Well, not for _good_. But you haven't given us any reason not to trust you yet. I think we owe it to you."

Jack stood speechless as the words ran through his mind. _Go outside? See the city? Get the fuck out of this room? No rules outside of this place, you told me._

_And I'll fucking kill you, Bruce, if you're making this shit up…_

"You're serious…?"

"Of course."

They stared at each other for a moment, sharing the same innocence behind the dark past. Behind the cowl and cape, the Batman was a trapped man hiding from the city he had once protected, and was now the same as the hunted man within inches of him. He could only give a small smile and dug a small package out from his jacket.

"Oh, here." He tossed it to Jack. "You might need this if you want to go outside."

That sealed the deal as he shut the door behind him, leaving Jack to celebrate on his own.

He ran his hands through his brown locks, sighing deeply as he realized the huge mistake he might have just made. A day in Gotham with it's most feared man. _This is going to be fun._

* * *

Inside the room, Jack stared down at the white wrapping paper around an awkward, light object in his hands. He sat himself on the bed, tearing at the ends of the paper as he held his breath. Peeling the last bit of paper off of the object, he stared down into the plastic sealed contents.

He choked out a little, letting himself smile for the first time.

His fingertips traced the scars on the side of his face as he stared down at the makeup kit and silicone molds.

Attached to the bottom of the package was a note written in black ink.

_I figured you we're pretty handy with makeup_

_Hopefully this will prove to be better than a silly bandana._

_-Bruce_

* * *

"Jim, honey, it's time for bed!"

"I'll be there in a minute."

"But, Jim, you've been in there for hours!"

The exhausted commissioner sighed in frustration as his attempts at work had failed for the rest of the night. With his worried wife lurking over his shoulder the whole night, he had not finished a thing or even begun to find anything regarding the so called Jack Napier in his city.

"Just a minute, dear."

He rubbed his eyes, staring back into the computer screen that did not want to comply with anything. Glaring at the name in his search engine, he muttered to himself.

"How has nobody even heard of you, yet here you are 'Napier…'"

Tossing his cell phone to his desk, he gave up for the night after making numerous calls to all of the Jack Napiers' in the world. It seemed as if the man had never existed and simply appeared out of thin air. Social security did not exist under his name, there were no files, dental, even a certificate of birth.

_How could this be? Despite the driver's liscence in the GPD's files, he has absolutely nothing. Who Is this man?_

He bites his lip, snatching up his cell phone once more, speed dialing the department.

"Hey, Claus? I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but I need your help. I need you to find any DNA matches of _Jack Napier _in the Gotham, Chicago areas."

"…Sir…?"

"I need you to do this for me, Claus. I'm counting on you."

He ends the call once he is assured that his orders would go through.

"Jim!"

He sighs heavily, burying his face in his palms, dragging the sleep away from his heavy eyelids. He gives into the commands. He stands, saving progress and favoriting the websites as to not forget the tracing of Jack Napier.

He looks back into the un-scarred, soft face of the young man.

"Who are you, Jack Napier?"

* * *

END! Of this chapter. Don't worry, stuff happens the next chapter. I just didn't want to rush anything because hey, rushing things is crazy and doesnt give you enough time to love, or experience what the characters are going through. (But maybe 2 months of waiting for the next chapter has.) Expect the next one very soon, dont worry!

RR


	12. Chapter 11: Released

**Moonstruck Chapter 11: Released**

Holy crap it took me forever to update this! I'm so sorry! My writer's block has been officially cured, this was the only chapter I had trouble with, everything else is prewritten and you'll be seeing me a lot more ofen now! Whew!

More Jack and Bruce interactions here... maybe they might become friends.

As usual, I don't own anything because if I did this would be real.

_And here..._

_We..._

_Go!_

* * *

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick tick._

The nearly silent analogue time upon Jack's wrist never seemed to cease. The noise resounding in his ears only made his nerves tighten as each new second came and passed. He quickly glanced at his watch.

11:03.

He was three minutes late already, and doubt sunk into his heart like a blade stabbing at it repeatedly until there was no more blood left. Tension grew in the back of his throat.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick._

11:10.

Ten minutes late.

He began to fidget, biting at his nails and looking around every few seconds as if he were waiting for any sign, knowing he would have heard if someone had entered the vicinity. He sighed. _I should have known better to trust his word._

_That fucking asshole._

_I'll kill him once he finally gets back here._

_Unless he decided to just leave…_

11:26.

_What the fuck is taking him so long?_

11:41

He shook himself awake at the sound of tire upon gravel, removing the left side of his face from his palm where the black town car finally pulled around the circle of his home. Jack stared at his watch again, sneering. Nearly an hour late, Bruce Wayne knew he had some explaining to do.

He took a deep breath before exiting the car.

"Jack, I'm sorry, something came up and…"

_Great, he's glaring at me. _

"We still have time."

Jack stared at the rocks in the driveway, clearly not giving a shit about any excuse he might have.

Bruce sighed deeply, somewhat annoyed at how much of a child this new man could be. He stepped around the car, sitting on the stairs to the front door, beside Jack. Jack flinched slightly, turning his attention away.

_He's trying to make me feel bad. Ugh._

He cleared his throat, "So…I noticed you used the makeup kit."

Bruce faked a smile to nobody in particular. "It looks good."

Jack sneered loudly.

_Keep your patience…_

"It looks like it might've taken a while to apply. It would really be a waste for making you put on all of that expensive makeup and then having to take it right back off, hmm?" He held his breath as he patted Jack's back, making him shudder under Bruce's touch.

_Seal the deal._

Bruce grunted as he stood up, "Well, then. If you don't want to leave then I'll see you inside?" He suggested, opening the door slightly, waiting for a reaction.

Jack frowned. _I hate him. _

"Fine."

Reluctant against anything Bruce Wayne said or did, and battling with his own sense of freedom, Jack sighed and seated himself in the passenger side of the old Lincoln car. The billionaire trotted to the drivers side, sliding himself in.

He slapped both hands on the steering wheel. "Where do you want to go?"

The blond adjusted himself, suddenly feeling awkward. Always wanting freedom and dreaming of leaving the Wayne house was constantly at the top of his wish list, but never gave any thought to what he could do with it once it was accomplished. He shrugged.

Bruce started the car, knowing even a simple car ride would make the man happy.

"Well, are you hungry?"

Jack shrugged again, but was immediately interrupted by the thought of food, causing his stomach to rumble audibly to both persons.

Bruce smiled.

* * *

_**Le Fleur Café 5th Ave  
Gotham City**_

The town car rumbled to a halt, shaking as the ignition was cut short as the billionaire parked the car behind a small restaurant in Gotham City. He gathered his wallet and keys, unbuckling his seatbelt when he taught sight that Jack seemed to be in a trance.

"Jack?"

He quickly whipped his attention back to Bruce. "What?"

"Are you alright?"

Looking down in embarrassment, he nodded.

Sighing, Bruce leaned over. "What's wrong?"

_Judging by how you always are, , I won't be able to ever let anything slip your mind, will I? _

"It's me. I… I don't think I'm ready…"

He blinked, suddenly unsure of what to do or say. "Wh… what do you mean? You wanted to go to the city…"

Jack fidgeted, biting his fingernails and stealing a glance every now and then in the sideview mirror. "People know who I am, don't they?" The brunet looked to his smooth face, frowning. "They've seen me on television, have they not? They know me as this monster right? D..do you even know what that feels like?"

_More than you know._

The griping conversation was enough to even make the world's wealthiest man uneasy. "What is it you're worried about?" _Am I supposed to play psychiatrist with this guy? All I agreed to was to let him stay with me until we could further determine his placement. After all, he is a prisoner…_

He sighed, "These… scars. Can you see them?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, "Not really, you did an excellent job with the makeup I gave you…"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Staring at his reflection once again and gently touching the silicone on his cheeks, he pouted. "They make me look chubby."

Bruce Wayne almost snorted. "What?"

"They make me look fat, or like if I used to be fat and never lost it in my face. Kind of like that guy from the stoner movies…"

_What the…?_

Jack took note by Bruce's blank facial expression to elaborate. "I watch a lot of TV in that room, if you wanted to know."

Taking it as his single opportunity, he exited the car, "Well if you must, your face looks fine and speaking of which we have arrived."

Jack stared out the windshield, taking a quick glance around where they were. The restaurant was a daytime lounge, colored lightly with a white patio and cast iron chairs outside, _Le Fleur _was a small French café, good enough to please the blond. He took a deep breath, and took his first step of freedom in Gotham City.

Locking the car automatically, he kept a very close eye on Jack, making sure the kid did not just take off into the city, where he would be forced the capture the rogue once again.

He cleared his throat, "You alright?"

Jack nodded softly, attempting to give a fake smile through all of the makeup.

"Thank you."

* * *

**The Grin and Bear It Gentlemen's Club  
Lower East Side**

"_The First National Bank closes every day at nine in the evening, where six security guards make their last rounds and the president locks away the day's profits within the vault, guarded by heat sensors and a handprint access key."_

"_We're… we're planning to rob this bank?"_

"_Who the fuck raised you, Schiff? You lose your marbles and your common sense?"_

"_Hey, give him a break, Dorian."_

_The dark haired one, Dorian, a man in his late forties scoffed at Jonny Frost, "Like as if you have anything better to add? You're the worst one of us all, if ya asked me I wouldda kicked you to the streets already, you old fuck."_

_Frost smirked, shaking his head at the irony. The blond man was two years younger than the burly brunet, but allowed the man to think so. He was not in the mood to get his ass kicked today. _

"_Ahem." Monty interrupted, suddenly becoming irritated at the men before him. "I was sayin'… this bank will be one of our challenges, but if done right we can keep our name as the men Gotham is afraid of."_

_Schiff held up his finger, "But the Joker…"_

_A low growl erupted from Monty's throat, as he slammed his fist onto the table, "The Joker is GONE!" _

_The men straightened up, suddenly afraid of their new leader; Frost took a long swig from the bottle of malt liquor. "You are all my men now, unless you decide to be thrown back onto the streets, begging for dollars just to call up your dealer. Eh? That sound like the life? Ya wanna go back to that?"_

_They all shared exchanges, shaking their heads. "If we rob this bank… not only will we be rich, but whose gonna come after us? Batman?" He burst out laughing, sending shivers down the backs of his men. _

_Jonny Frost sighed. Where are you, Joker?_

* * *

"So… Jack. I still don't know much about you at all, but yet you manage to surprise me each time you open your mouth. Tell me what you do."

The blonde stared at him from behind his cup of coffee, "You obviously mean before all of this shit happened, correct?"

Bruce nodded.

Sighing, he sat the mug down on the saucer, twisting a flower between his fingers as he tried to avoid the billionaire's gaze. "I was a social worker for patients in their times of need. They came to me to help make decisions about their upcoming surgeries and the stress of dealing with a loss or a sudden change in their life because of a medical mishap."

The brunet's lips parted, taking the words in as if he were being read a book; what Jack had said was genuine, and he believed it as well. "Did you like your job?"

Jack shrugged, still avoiding eye contact. "Does anybody like their job for a long period of time? I couldn't deal with hearing everyone's problems everyday. I never had time to worry about myself."

Bruce set his sandwich back on the china plate, wiping his mouth, "What did you want to do instead?"

He noticed a smile tear at the edges of Jack's lips. "I wanted to be an entertainer, or do stand up comedy shows." He looked to Bruce. "But you can see how everything turned out. Suddenly I'm this wanted man thrown into this city, and next thing I know I'm sitting down having tea and crumpets with America's richest man." He gave a faux toast towards Bruce, sipping down the rest of his coffee.

Taking a gander, Bruce grinned, "I can see that. Do you have anything else on your plate that you would like to share with me?"

Jack nodded his thanks to the waitress as she refilled his mug, then scratched the back of his head as an attempt to hide his face. "Why me…?" He stared at his reflection in the black coffee, "why did you choose to take me in if you knew all of this was going to happen?"

"Maybe because I know what its like to be cast out, and I wanted to know for myself the true man behind this mask as well." He gave a half smile, "You can't blame me for that."

Somewhat pleased, Jack tried to exchange the small smile, "No. I guess not."

"Thank you gentlemen for dining with us this afternoon… which uh…" The waitress came up, waving the bill around for either of the men to take. Bruce handed her his platinum card, winking at her before she strutted off to swipe his card.

Jack looked away, uncomfortably as he chewed a little more on a hangnail.

Bruce frowned, swatting his hand away, "Stop that. It's gross."

He looked to Bruce, and then to his empty plate. "Thank you… I would have paid, its just…"

Bruce shook his head in response, "My treat. I understand." Expecting to give Jack a fake smile in order to please him, he could feel his cheeks quiver and he was really smiling.

"You've done everything for me though…"

Bruce took his credit card back, scribbling his signature and tip amount on the receipt paper. "Jack, as you said, I've got enough money to own Air Force One, thirty bucks isn't a problem."

"I really hate it when you do that."

Ignoring the previous statement, Bruce looked up from the check, "How much of a tip?"

Jack shrugged, taking a glance at the young woman's behind as she walked away. "With or without the backdoor?"

Bruce gave him a look. _Watch it._

"Ah… $300." He saw her jump up and down as she spoke to another coworker, breasts following her every move. Jack frowned, "Nooope… scratch that, make it $450."

_The meal was $32 Jack… Alrighty then, $450 it is…_

He scribbled down the number, waving over their waitress one more time. She walked up nervously, carrying two empty glasses in her hands. "Yes sir?"

Bruce tucked the receipt in her fingers, "Thank you, miss. Have a nice day." He noticed out of the corner of his eye, Jack eyeing her backside like a dingo watching a child.

"Th-thank you sir…" She muttered, walking away.

_Dear God, Jack… what the hell am I gonna do with you?_

* * *

**Gotham City**

"Jesus Christ, you can't tell me you're still hungry…"

"I can't help it, I'm a fatass!"

"Jack, you had two chicken croissants sandwiches and large sweet potato fries…" Bruce groaned as he followed the blond around the city, who had discovered he could control the billionaire like a child running away from their parent. "Wh… what are you doing now?" He made a face as he saw Jack run up to a hot dog vendor on the side of the street.

"Bruce, I'll pay you back." He begged, staring at the juicy franks on the roller.

"You want a dollar hot dog?"

Jack looked around as if the answer was completely a given. "Uh… yeah?" Bruce walked up to his side, staring in at them.

"They look like they're definitely worth a dollar…" The smell disgusted him, and dug in his pockets for a few bills. Jack grabbed the money, ordering his new snack.

The brunet walked a few dozen feet away to escape the stench of cheap hot dog, then pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. He scrolled and came upon an old conversation between himself and the Commissioner.

_To: Jim Gordon  
Any news yet?_

_SEND_

Less than a few seconds later, he received a message back.

_From: Jim Gordon  
Not yet, Jack Napier barely exists. Regretting anything yet?_

Bruce snorted at the wit of the Commissioner, tucking his phone back into his pants, turning around as Jack came up to him, already engulfing one of the hot dogs. He elbowed the side of the billionaire, trying to motion out.

"Efft it."

"What…?"

Jack held up a finger as he struggled to swallow, "Eat it."

"No. It smells like dog food."

Jack frowned, "Just try it."

"I said no."

"Just one bite!"

Bruce glared at him and stared down the hot dog being offered to him. _If I die, I'm sending you back to Arkham. _Narrowing his gaze, he snatched it up, taking a huge mouthful of the frank. "Fime." Trying not to choke, he tried to down it fast as he could…

Jack stared at him, "So… how is it?"

Swallowing hard and licking his lips, he shrugged. "I hate to admit it… but that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Jack smiled widely, "Welcome to the normal world!"

* * *

END of this chapter. More of their day out in the next chapter. I wanted to let you guys know I'm NOT dead anymore! :D R&R What do you guys think? Thanks for keeping up with me, again I'm sorry. I hope you like!


	13. Chapter 12: Adagio

**Moonstruck Chapter 12: Adagio**

Ah, so we're back in the swing of things as far as stories go, I also updated my other two Batman Begins/Dark Knight fan-fictions which you should check out. I've noticed a lot of you are sooo waiting the 'bond' between Bruce W and Mistah J, but you might have to wait a few more chapters. Am I serious? You'll have to see for yourself and don't forget to read and review because without reviews I'll have no idea what you guys think of the story so far! Hope you like it!

_Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned anything this would actually happen._

_And here…_

_We…_

_Go…!_

* * *

**Gotham City  
Nov. 18  
2:20P**

"Jack, slow down."

"Haha, why, what's the matter Bruce?"

"I don't think that hot dog is digesting properly…" He groaned, trying to settle his already turning stomach. The younger man's metabolism was a mystery to Bruce, and never expected the Joker to be such a teenager at heart. _Well, Bruce. He's not the Joker anymore as far as you know. _

He smiled wide when he saw Jack trip over a rogue brick in the walk path. _But he has fully managed to keep me entertained. _

"Ah, Bruce!"

He rolled his eyes, catching up to the young blond who had parked himself in front of yet another street vendor. He sighed, "Don't tell me you're still hungry."

Jack gave him a look before pointing at one of the brochures of Gotham City amongst all of the news articles. "Look. There's a circus in town!"

Bruce took the brochure from his hands. "They've always been here in Gotham, it's a seasonal circus. They open once a year for about 4 months during the summer and sometime in the fall…"

Jack bit his lip, "Do you think they're still open?"

Glancing over the remaining brochures, he noticed his alter ego covering the page of Gotham Times, swallowing the lump in his throat. He casually blocked Jack's view from the certain newspaper, stealing a glance at the title.

_**BATMAN AIDING IN BANK HEIST?  
Masked men in "Bat" Cowls Take $80,000 from First Gotham Bank**_

_Great. Even without him they're realizing they don't need their leader to pull off dumb shit like this. _

Jack gasped loudly, tearing Bruce away from his own thoughts. "What?"

"It says they close mid November… what's today?"

Bruce shook his head, "Uh… the 18th."

"Do you think they're still open?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, taking another look at the brochure. "You can never be sure if they never show the dates… did you want to go?"

Jack bit his fingernail, nodding. "Yeah…"

The billionaire turned away for a second, scrolling through his schedule on his phone. _He's gonna kill me if he doesn't make it to this damn circus… _

He sighs, "I'm sorry Jack…."

The blond shrugged, clearly trying to hide that he was disappointed.

Bruce smirked, "I can't do it tomorrow or the next night, I'm busy and it might be too late… how about tonight?"

Jack quickly turned to him. "What?"

Shrugging himself, Bruce pocketed his phone. "You want to go, I promised you anything today. So it's a yes or no to tonight. You want to go to the circus?"

Jack smiled, "Yeah."

* * *

"…go home, we'll change and tell Alfred about tonight and then we can go, how does that sound?" Bruce suggested from behind the wheel of the car as they exited downtown Gotham, tapping the steering wheel as they squeaked to a halt at a red light. _A circus, huh, Bruce? Sure, it fits him most definitely. Guess I should have thought the Joker would run away to the circus at one point or another; keep an eye on him, Bruce._

Jack looked down at himself, uncomfortable from the large jeans swallowing his frame and the tee shirt too baggy around his shoulders. "Um… I'm sorry, Bruce. But I can't wear your old clothes all the time." He gave a quick, sarcastic smile as an attempt to hint to the loaded man.

Bruce looked down at his handy-down garments, taking note.

_Yeah, should have thought of that sooner, Bruce. Jack might be different than the Joker but he still complains about a lot…_

"Wh…" He attempts, instantly shaking his head as if he needed to sneeze, "What kind of clothes are you wanting?"

Jack shrugged, taking upon the sarcastic tone again, "Oh, I dunno, clothes that fit me. Now, I'm not saying you're a fatass, but I'm a bit smaller than you."

Bruce sneered at his wit, somewhat amused. The boy always had something interesting to say.

"Well, where do you want to go?"

_Jesus Christ, I gotta take this kid shopping too? Now that he mentions it… I've always wondered how 'the Joker' dressed when he wasn't in that ugly purple coat. I mean, if he actually owned more clothes. _

_Now that's a crazy thought._

_Is Jack the goth type? The polo and jeans kind of guy? The pea-coat plaid poet? Or was he just a hobo? _

_Huh._

_Should have known._

Bruce Wayne stopped in his tracks as they sauntered up to the entrance of a rather large, expensive looking store.

_GUESS. _

_Maybe this Jack Napier did have some kind of style…_

After various and extensive, not to mention expensive outfit changes Jack seemed satisfied as he ogled at himself in the three-way mirror. Bruce rubbed the already haunting sleep from his eyes, hoping it was the last time Jack would want to alter his looks once more.

He found his dark eyes focusing on the young blond, examining every single feature upon him.

Aside from the covered scars and messy curls, Jack was extremely attractive and could not find himself able to look at anything else in the dressing room. Dark, acid washed jeans hung at his small waist from a tattered leather belt casually hidden under fashion knit shirt, with light silver embroidering on the sides. Adjusting a blazer over his shoulders, he turned to look at Bruce.

"How do I look?"

_Like a model._

"Uh, you look good." He cleared his throat, attempting to shake the strange thought from his mind.

_Okay, Bruce. Admit it, he looks great. He has the fashion sense of an A-Lister and looks just as great as the male model poster in the background. _

_God, get your mind out of the gutter._

Jack nodded to Bruce, staring at himself in the mirror. "I'm not sure…"

_No, you are buying them and wearing them everyday. _

Bruce snuck a wad of money into the store clerk's palm, giving a small smile as he stood. "Well, too late Jack. I already bought them." He slapped him on the shoulder, looking at them both in the mirror.

Jack shied away from his touch, "Ah… thank you…"

"Don't mention it." He squeezed his shoulder, taking a quick glance at his watch. "Come on, Cinderella…"

Jack laughed.

"…Let's get you to your ball."

* * *

**Wayne Penthouse Suite  
7:17P**

_To: Bruce W.  
From: Jim Gordon  
7:17_

_How are things going?_

To: Jim Gordon  
From: Bruce W  
7:20

Fine. I let him out today.

_To: Bruce W  
From: Jim Gordon  
7:21_

_How did that go? Still nothing, searched background everything, this guy is a ghost._

To: Jim Gordon  
From: Bruce W  
7:23

Jack is doing fine, no sign of the Joker either.

_To: Bruce W  
From: Jim Gordon  
7:28_

_Keep your eye out for him, he is still a fugitive and can turn his back on us at any minute. He's a genius, you've seen what he can do to us. _

To: Jim Gordon  
From: Bruce W  
7:35

I know. If Bruce Wayne can't keep a hold of him, maybe Batman can.

_To: Bruce W  
From: Jim Gordon  
7:41_

_Don't be too hasty; the mob has grown larger in his absence. You may need to learn how to balance Bruce Wayne and Batman on the edge of the Joker's knife. Be careful.  
-Jim _

DELETE MESSAGES?

OK

MESSAGES DELETED

He stared down at the last message, fighting the urge to snap his cellphone in half. Clenching his teeth together and inhaling deeply, he quickly threw it back in his pocket. _I know, Gordon. Why does everyone have to always reassure me? I'm not gonna protect him, I'm not going to get weak for this kid. He's got the alter-ego of a megalomaniac and is as manipulative as a teenager in a school uniform._

_On second thought, maybe not like that. _

_I know who he is. I know what he is. _

_I'm not a fucking idiot._

"Bruce."

"Hmm?" he turned to see Jack standing in the doorway, in the same outfit as earlier with his hands tucked neatly into his coat pockets.

"Are you almost ready?"

He feigned a small smile, "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

I know its kind of a very short chapter but I did want to split this one 'night' into a few chapters because it is probably the longest day in the moonstruck story and I gotta include a lot, but it tends to jump around so I thought this was an okay closure until the next chapter. Guess what though? The next chapter is already written so a week after this one is posted, the next one is coming up, and the next one after that, and next one after that are already prepared. HOORAY! :D and yes, they're very long chapters and will make up for this one too xD

Oh, and Adagio is something I kind of made up as well. My new obsession has been a song called Adagio in D Minor by John Murphy and I found out adagio also means "at ease" "at peace" or "steady" so there you go! Make sense? I have no idea, in my mind it does... :)

Please review :3

Love you guys!


	14. Chapter 13: City of Wonder

**Moonstruck: Chapter 13  
"City of Wonder" **

Hey guys. Updated again, seeing as being given class time has actually improved my writer's block. This was the last missing chapter that had to be written, all others are already finished and ready to be published. Hope I didn't lose too many of you from my absences! I apologize again...

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

_And here..._

_we.._

_Go!_

* * *

"I'm sorry, Jack." Bruce looked over to the blond man, sighing in disappointment. "It's closed for the winter."

He stared through the cast iron bars at the deserted park, looking over the old food stands, empty benches, and abandoned rides. He then twisted on his heels, pacing forward with his eyes to the wall surrounding the park.

Bruce stammered to catch up to his pace, "Jack? What are you doing?"

He was ignored, as the other man was too busy scouting the area like a hound for something, anything. He then came to a dead tree between the wall and sidewalk. "Jack, answer me." He demanded as soon as Jack grabbed onto one of the branches.

Pushing off of the ground, he hoisted himself into the tree, on one of the larger branches.

Jack carefully walked his way across the branch, nearing the edge of the wall and as soon as he got enough distance, he jumped.

"Jack!"

Bruce's heart leapt within his chest as the blond disappeared over the barricade between him and the park. He ran back to the gate, meeting Jack between the bars. "What do you think you're doing? This isn't legal!"

Jack sighed, "Come on, it's only trespassing..." He teased, showing off a childish grin.

The brunet growled, "This is exactly why we couldn't-"

"Couldn't let me out? You've had me in a cage for so long, of course I'm going to be fresh when I finally get the chance to do this kind of shit." He pressed his face against the bars, holding out a hand as his voice softened. "Come on, Bruce. When was the last time you had a little fun?"

He stopped, staring the man in the eyes, knowing that the words were genuine. He took a deep breath, not even remembering the last time he had a day off just to be a regular man, not the billionaire Bruce Wayne. He hesitated, then laid his hand in the other man's.

Jack smiled, "Okay, then."

After helping the older man over the barricade, they stared at the playground before them. With nothing but the pale moonlight to light their way, the ventured off into the amusement park together. As they ran though the registration gates, dodging the lights, they pretended they were on the run together, escaping the feds without wearing a mask.

A smile spread upon Bruce Wayne's features as he realized he was having fun, acting like he was a child again. He gripped Jack's hand tight, afraid if he let go the boy would run off and never be seen again. No—that's not why Bruce locked his fingers around the blond's palm.

He saw the wide smile spread across Jack's face as he explored his new world, he was never going to leave.

Bruce heaved. _God, he's fast._

He took a deep breath and caught up quickly, eyes searching wildly around the circus and park. At one point the park held thousands of people and their children, spending every last dollar and cent they had on cotton candy, pony rides, and fun houses. Fliers blew in the wind, littering the browning grass.

The steel roller coaster rusted under the cool November air, and the Ferris wheel had been clearly abandoned for the year.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Jack glanced back at Bruce, "Hold on." He let go, running off into the night.

"Wha? Jack!"

He chased after the spontaneous man who led them deep into the park, finding himself surrounded by rides, stands, and finding the large circus tent over one hundred yards away. He caught his breath as he stumbled upon the control room. Jack stopped at the door, taking a peek back at the billionaire.

"Wh…. What are you doing, Jack?"

He smiled back, "You'll see…" He kicked the door open.

_Oh, no…_

"Jack, no! It's too much, they'll know we're here."

The blonde ignored him as he entered the room, searching for a button, a switch, a key. "Come on…" He narrowed his eyes at the control panel, finding a hand lever with a green sticker labeled: 'Main Power'

He turned to give Bruce the benefit of the doubt, "Bruce… we're already here. And if you think a little darkness is gonna stop me, you're wrong." He pulled back the handle; machines groaning to life at the first surge of power.

The billionaire twisted around to look for any oncoming security or GCPD to be hot on their trail. _God, if Gordon or Alfred learn about this, I'll never hear the end of it…_

Jack stepped out of the booth, taking a look around the park as everything ignited in the night; a string of Christmas lights marked their path. Rides burst into life, everything igniting in neon lights. Bruce stared in amazement, as the park opened just for the two of them.

The younger man smacked his palm on the billionaire's shoulder, "Do you see it now…?"

He almost laughed, "Yeah… it's incredible!"

Jack smiled, "Come on…"

Bruce shook his head, reaching out towards the young man, wrapping his fingers around Jack's hand. He smiled-no, laughed out loud at the excitement of trespassing in his human life. Freedom was always something he found as a child and as the man aged and took over the Wayne Empire, the opportunities for fun, not including the caped crusader, were terminated. The cool, night air invited him into the deserted playground, every lonely seat on the carousel coming alive and galloping in an endless circle.

The Ferris wheel turned in the night, illuminating the park. Bruce gripped his hand tighter around the long fingers as the blond led them into the fun-house.

After bounding up the steps, Jack released his own hand and dashed off into the labyrinth.

Like a parent chasing a child in a playground, Bruce chuckled and followed him into the maze of tubes and towers. He called out, "Jaaaack!" his voice distorted off of the reverberators. He could hear Jack laugh ahead of him.

"Come on, Bruce!" He called out, voice becoming distant...

The billionaire made his way through the forest of strange objects. The younger man was nowhere to be seen. Following his guides on the floor, he came around a corner with a thin platform laying straight through a revolving tunnel. _Hmm...weird_. He thought and stepped into it, immediately becoming dizzy and disoriented. He grabbed onto the railings, attempting to focus and save his life from falling off of the edge...

He exhaled a sigh of relief once steadying himself on one of the guardrails.

"Having trouble there?"

He looked to the end of the tunnel where Jack stood with his arms crossed across his chest.

"How did you..?" Bruce wondered, still dizzy from the tunnel spinning around him.

"Come on, Bruce..."

He held out his arm and open hand, only four feet away. The billionaire stared at him and reluctantly moved his feet forward, letting go of the railing. Focusing on his feet, he stood straight and edged himself toward the man waiting for him at the end. The inviting fingertips twitched towards him, and he wanted nothing more than to grab the fingers in his.

He reached out...

And Jack was gone again.

_Dammit_! He took a deep breath and ran towards the end of the tunnel, nearly collapsing at it's end. He turned back around to stare at the strange machine. How is that even possible? Taking one last look at it, he walked off to explore more of the weird fun-house. he could hear comical laughing clowns. _Huh. Figures._ As the laughing grew louder, he found hanging clocks swirling all over the walls and a vortexof white and red attempting to suck him into his negative dimension.

He shook his head to ignore the optical illusion and followed the glow in the dark arrows on the floor.

Suddenly, he found himself staring at...himself?

_Oh, a mirror._

He reached out and traced the surface to find the edge and moved himself around the obstacle, coming into mirrors-everywhere. Stretching his hands out, he led himself through the mirrors by touch, coming to another turn in the maze. The mirror warped and deformed Bruce's body into that of an obese man's. He tilted his head, suddenly confused again.

He could hear Jack burst out laughing from somewhere ahead. Giving his fat self one last glance, he sauntered on. Turning around at the end of each hall became surprisingly easy once he learned the trick. He could see the end of the fun-house ahead of him, leading out into the night.

There was one last mirror, long and only a few feet tall. It extended to the exit of the contraption, over twelve feet long. Through the glass, he could see the light change from blue to yellow, to red, gently touching the silver glass and dragging his fingertips across the surface.

Looking carefully, beyond his fingertips were the touch of anothers, following him slowly. He laid his palm flat against the surface, feeling the slight heat from another being on the other side. Reaching the edge of the mirror, his hand met with a warm, tattooed hand on the other side. The pads of their fingers touching, he took a small breath and laid his palm on the other.

Jack smiled at him through the one-way mirror and rested his head against it, sighing in satisfaction. Feeling a slight tingle in the pit of his stomach, Bruce swallowed it down and moved around the mirror, still hand in hand with the young blond. He came upon the dark, still slightly hidden, man in the darkness. He could feel his cheeks flush as he laid eyes upon the boy.

The distressed oxford lay open at his chest, baring the tan, smooth skin and exposing his scarred collar. And the way his jeans hung at his waist...

A siren broke his concentration, both men whipping their heads towards the exit of the fun-house, attempting to find the source...

Locating the blue flashing lights on the side of the park, they were caught by the GCPD.

"Is that the cops?" Jack peeked out to see a few, maybe three cruisers pull up and around the entrance to the park. Bruce rubbed his eyes and leaned over Jack to have a good look.

"Yeah, but it's just the county police; Gordon and his team wouldn't bother with this kind of stuff."

Jack mockingly smiled, "Oh, good. What do we do?"

Shaking his head, Bruce almost laughed in disbelief at the thought of himself being caught with the Joker, trespassing into a park at 9pm. "Uh... we escape." He burst out laughing, unable to keep himself under control anymore. Jack smirked to him, and took a tight hold of his hand.

"Stay close."

Taking a peek one more time, he gripped Bruce's hand and dashed into the night, keeping a pace he knew Bruce could keep up with. Flashlights shone straight into their eyes, momentarily blinding the two men.

"There!" They heard a muffled shout across the park and dodged the beam of light, taking shelter behind a small snack stand.

Jack grabbed the lapels of Bruce's jacket, pushing him against the back of the small hiding spot. They shared a few deep breaths-adrenaline now running through their veins. The billionaire focused on the younger man's face illuminated in the night lights: Panicked and stressed. He couldn't help it.

He fell into another fit of laughter. He, Bruce Wayne, not Batman was on the run from the cops. No Kevlar, escape car, cape, cowl, or even a pair of good shoes. He somewhat regretted wearing a suit and loafers, but made him laugh even more... Jack stared at him.

"You uh..." he wiped his face, "You think I should bribe them?"

Jack shook his head, "No way. These guys don't need any more funding for ricing out their damn cars."

Bruce nodded and while attempting to catch his breath, he noticed, "There's a broken fence back there... coupla hundred yards away. Think we can make it in time?"

The blond feigned a frown, "We only have 20 seconds to exit the building. 19..."

Bruce rolled his . _Oh, jeez..._

"18... 17..." he faked counting down, looking back and forth between the rotted fence and the officers, coming in fast...

"Ready._.." _The pounding in his chest became almost unbearable...

"GO!"

"Freeze, or we'll shoot!" They could hear over the adrenaline pumping through their veins. The escape was so close. Ignoring the command, they came up to the broken hole in the wire fence. Jack arrived first, ducking under and ushering Bruce out of the park first.

"Will they really shoot?"

Bruce grabbed his arm to pull Jack through, "Nah, they're just blanks. We didn't commit a major crime."

A few loud shots in the night proved him wrong.

"...As far as I know..." He ducked under the fencing, crawling to safety on the other side. Jack glanced over his shoulder; a flash of light caught the center of his eye. The sound of helicopter blades invaded his hearing, heart momentarily stopping.

Shaking the thought away, he ducked through the fencing and out of the park, sprinting towards the streets with the billionaire. Self-consciously, he looked to the skies. Nothing. Nothing but the moon and stars on that clear night.

They ran until they reached the perimeter of the park, a number of blocks away. Finally breaking into a slower pace, they stopped, hunching over to catch their breath. Jack leaned over, sucking in air deeply and resting himself on his knees. The billionaire's legs felt like jello as the adrenaline worse off and he became light on his feet. Not having been in shape for months, Bruce panted, looking down at Jack.

Jack panted, wiping his mouth. "I need to quit smoking..." he sighed.

They stared in silence at each other before cracking up, nearly falling over in laughter.

The blonde pointed towards Bruce, "Look at your hair!" He giggled out. Bruce turned to look in the glass of a building. The neat comb over was twisted and frizzy, most hairs plucked out of place and hanging at either side of his head. He groaned jokingly before laughing at himself and attempting to fix the mess of hair. The wealthy billionaire heir faded from his appearance, giving true to a normal human being.

Jack stood up straight, "So... was that just about the most illegal thing you've done?"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I've had a couple of rough deals with the cops before." Smiling at the memories of being a rogue, Bruce stared off into the night. "A long, long time ago..."

The blond nodded, accepting the answer. "Where's the car?"

Bruce sighed. "You don't mind taking a long walk, do you?"

* * *

"So...how did you go from being a normal human kid to the wealthy, prosperous man you are today?" Jack asked, finishing off his mint chocolate chip ice cream cone as they slowly sauntered around the city, avoiding any confrontations with the local pigs. Bruce inhaled the fresh air in the night, letting his shoulders drop.

"Well, I was the heir to the company; my parents were the presidents of the corporation and I took it up when I got older. I really didn't want the responsibility at first." He crunched into the strawberry ice cream cone. "Mmmf turn." Pondering to himself for a moment, he tried to think of something else to ask Jack in their new game of twenty questions. "Hmm... who was your first girlfriend?"

Jack nearly choked on his treat, clearing his throat.

"Emily Whittle. Fourth grade." He licked his dry lips, quickly plucking at the silicone that began to peel from his face. "She had a crush on me and I never really cared, so we went out for a few days. Don't think I really even knew what a relationship was, y'know? Never interested in that sorta thing."

Taking in the information, Bruce made an odd face, strangely finding it funny that Jack would be so... nonchalant about love. _Well, you certainly do a great job putting up the womanizer front._

He shrugged, looking for approval from the billionaire and continued. "So, what happened to your parents?"

Bruce almost froze, but reluctantly continued on.

C_ome on, Bruce. It was gonna come up eventually..._

"They uh..." He could feel his throat tightening. "They died when I was young."

The blond became silent and looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed. "I'm sor-"

He stopped quickly, interrupting Jack. "No, don't say it. It's okay."

There was a reassuring tone in Bruce's voice. "Well, can I ask what happened?"

The older man looked to him, dumbfounded; he actually asked instead of pretending to ignore the awkward situation or change the subject. Everyone else either walked away or became silent-nobody dared to question Bruce Wayne about the death of his parents, the infamous Thomas and Martha Wayne. It was slightly...comforting. "We went to the theater one night. My mother, father and I..."

The bats fluttering in the back of his subconscious reminded him to disguise his alter ego.

"I felt sick about halfway through the show, and I asked to go home-at least get some fresh air. We left through the back entrance and a man tried to rob us. He was waving a gun around and shot my father when he was confronted. He killed my mother too out of fear." The sounds of the gunshots were so close...

"I-I thought he was going to kill me, but he escaped before anyone could even react. My parents died before help arrived."

Jack stared into him, attempting to get Bruce to look at him. He could hear the struggle and pain in the billionaire's voice.

"...And as soon as I was old enough, I left Alfred's care and went off on my own. I couldn't deal with being around the memories that still hadn't gone away and the thoughts of blaming myself for their deaths. I thought everyone else did, after all. Turns out..." He let out a soft, feign chuckle. "I was the only one who couldn't let go of that night."

His legs nearly buckled when he felt a warm pair of arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him into a gentle embrace.

"You don't have to try so hard..." Jack whispered softly, leaning into the crook of the brunet's neck. He could feel his heart pounding in his breast, thumping in his eardrums. He tensed under the warm touch, telling himself to push the boy away in the case of a concealed weapon. The warmth was comforting and caused his face to turn a beet red. Before he was able to snatch up the hands or push them away, Jack released from him and casually wondered away as if nothing had happened.

Bruce swallowed hard, attempting to regain his composure. He trotted back up to Jack's side, who leaned over with a smile.

"Your turn."

_Nonchalant. Guess I gotta get used to this..._

"Uh... are you religious?" _What the fuck, Bruce._

Jack continued to bound ahead, unsure as to which direction they were headed. "Nope. I was raised under a Catholic background but it never interested me."

"Well, do you believe in god?"

He shook his head, still a little confused as to why his smile would not fade. "Nah. The way I figure it, if there was a god so great as the one they call in the Bible, he would have proved it to me instead of deserting me. I don't need any crutch to lean on in my weak moments." He waved his finger around as if giving a lecture. "Someone once told me a metaphor that made a lot of sense to me. Say you're in the supermarket with someone and you two split up, and meet back at the register."

Bruce narrowed his gaze, "What's your point?"

"My point is that you shouldn't excuse this so called god and then start to worship only at the check out. So if I'm on the brink of death, what would I do? Pray to god in the hopes that he would forgive me for all my sins? No, no."

The older man shrugged, not sure as to what he believed in either. "What would you think of in those last moments?"

Jack twisted towards him, awestruck by the words. He raised up his pointer fingers as if to speak, beginning to chew on his lower lip. He frowned. "That was three questions."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"...I don't know. I'd think of a good memory to leave with. I'd be..." He let out a small chuckle, "I think I'd be pretty content with letting today be my last happy memory."

He bowed his head in response, "I'd be okay with that too."

_Thank you, Jack..._

_For everything that you've done for me._

_Today, the days before, and when I first met you, you began to test my mind._

_I gotta give it to ya, if that was your plan... you succeeded._

"So, Bruce Wayne."

"Hmm?"

"I got one more question..." He trailed off, slurring the last syllable. "Why did you let me stay with you, even if you did know who I was?"

_This question again?_

"I dont know what I was thinking then. I knew who you were at the time and knew I should be cautious just like everyone else. But I wasn't afraid of you and I knew exactly what you wanted. None of us would like to be in the situation and you can't condemn a man with a supposed case of amnesia to a mental institute or prison." He exhaled deeply, "I was planning to keep an eye on you because Gordon and I used to be close. And now, I'm not sure if I can follow his word, even if they are genuine."

Jack glanced at him for a short moment before making a high pitched noise in approval. "Well, thank you for that."

They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the car, clouds gathering in the midnight air. The breeze around their feet picked up slightly, blowing litter around the streets. The brunet looked to his cell phone- no missed calls, messages, or warnings from the old butler.

"Ah! There it is..." Bruce announced, seeing his black car in the distance.

"Um... Bruce..." Jack said softly, pleading lie a child. The gentle voice caught Bruce off guard completely; his name dripping off of the blond's lips halted his thoughts entirely. He spun on his heels, beginning to walk towards the stopped ma.

Jack began again. "I..."

The thunder cracked overhead in the dark heavens, opening up its swollen clouds and unleashing its rain straight down onto the both of them. Jack ducked under his raised arm attempting to shield the freezing rain.

Bruce wiped the heavy rain from his face, instantly becoming drenched. "Come on, let's get to the car!"

Shivering into the passenger's seat, Jack crawled in impatiently and bundled himself up on the leather seat in the Lincoln. He anxiously awaited Bruce to turn to heat on in the sudden cold and downpour the night had to bring. Bruce tucked himself into the driver's side, slamming the door shut and cranking up the car.

"You ready to go home?"

Jack nodded in between shivers.

He pulled onto the empty streets, thinking to himself.

_What were you going to say?_


	15. Chapter 14: Chances

__Hello dear readers, I know, I'm updating within a few weeks now. No, you don't have to wait another month for the next chapter after this. I'm sure it will piss you off if I did, so I'm not. Read the description again before reading this chapter if you are offended easily. . Which I hope people have gotten more mature about. Anyways, nearly midnight and I decided, hey, they've waited long enough you know? I hope you enjoy ;)

_Disclaimer: if I owned anything, this would have happened movie form. LUL _

* * *

_Pit-pat_

_Pit-pat_

_Pit-pat_

The billionaire sits in bed, arms propped behind his head in a relaxed manner as he stares at the ceiling of his bedroom mesmerized by the day that had taken place hours before. A gentle smile spreads across his face. When was the last time he had that much fun? He figured it was back when he was a child, playing with Rachel in the gardens of his old home.

He was mused, and the gentle chorus of the rainstorm in Gotham was the perfect touch to a good night's sleep.

Bruce lets his dark eyes fade, as he succumbs to a deep slumber.

He soon wakes to a muffled banging, and looks up wearily from his pillow and at his bedside clock. He wipes the drool from his bottom lip.

2:12AM.

_Alfred… what is it now?_

He repeats over and over to himself that it is just the thunder outside, but it comes again and is a little louder. Bruce growls to himself, and crawls out of bed, ignoring the fact that the only article of clothing he wears is his boxers.

_This better be good._

He opens the door, to come face to face with Jack.

Bruce blinks and shakes his head, gently rubbing his temple with one hand at the sudden light of the hallway. "Oh, sorry…Jack, I didn't know it was you."

The blond shrugs and looks off to the side as if to avoid the Batman's gaze. Bruce notices the awkwardness in his posture and that he is fidgeting about something. _He seems embarrassed by something… Jackie, what's wrong?_

_Wait—'Jackie'?_

_Since when is the Joker worthy of a pet-name?_

He shakes his head again to clear his pacing mind, "What's…" _Hell, what am I saying? _"Why did you… what's going on?" _Just hit yourself, Bruce. Way to trip over your own words. _He straightens up, trying to act composed and sees the gentle, child-like timorous face in front of him.

_He looks…scared._

Jack acts startled and backs away, covering his face. "I-I don't know, I'm sorry for waking you…"

"No, tell me."

"It's, it's stupid, just forget it."

Bruce reaches through the doorway, blindly grabbing, and snatches the younger man's arm, giving him a threatening, stern look that clearly means _'Tell me, or you lose the arm.' _His piercing gaze bares into Jack's soul, making the other man sigh.

Jack laughs a little out of embarrassment. "I...can't sleep during thunderstorms…."

Bruce smiles. "I know what you need."

* * *

"Alfred used to sense when I couldn't sleep as a child. He would find me here, trying to fix myself some hot coco to help me sleep. Eventually he learned about my habit and beat me to the chase, and served me in bed until I fell asleep again." The billionaire smiles to himself as he gathers jars from the wooden cabinets above his head.

Jack sits at the island in front of his friend, twiddling a straw between his teeth.

"That hot chocolate turned into coffee when I got older. Ha, I realized then that it reversed the effect." He laughs. "I guess that's what caffeine does to you."

Jack playfully rolls his eyes and scoots his chair out from under the counter.

"I say, we should have hot coco." He stands and walks to the pantry, with Bruce's brown eyes following him like a hawk.

"What're you…"

The blond returns with two packets of hot chocolate in his hand and strikes a very feminine-like pose. "Please. I know where everything is by now; you didn't think that I wouldn't raid the pantry, did you?"

A shy grin spreads across Bruce's face and he takes the packets, grabbing milk from the refrigerator as he does so.

"If you say so, hot coco it is."

The two fix their drinks, and Jack even manages to sneak marshmallows into the hot coco; After all, he is the Joker and anything can happen. Even pirating the fluffy sweets.

"Hey, Bruce."

The brunet turns in time to be shot in the forehead with a small, defenseless marshmallow. He blinks in shock and looks down to the white candy on the floor.

"You hit me…with a marshmallow?"

"You were supposed to catch it, dumb-shit."

Bruce makes an offended face and quickly reaches behind him—grabbing a fistful of hard candies- and tosses the sweet grenade at Jack, who ducks just in time to dodge the assault.

Barricaded behind the counter, Jack peeks up to toss a few marshmallows in Bruce's direction. He is hit in the shoulder, chest, belly and hand. A groan escapes his lips and the billionaire sinks to the floor holding his chest as if he has been seriously injured.

The weathered Brit has heard everything going on in the kitchen and peeks down the stairs to see Bruce Wayne fall over with Jack hovering over him.

"Oh, no…" He whispers, reaching for what lay in his back pocket. A gun.

Jack crawls over to the still body, curious and confused at how still…and dead the billionaire looked. He did not think that he had actually hurt Bruce, unless a rogue grenade had been in the batch of marshmallows. He sits by the body's side, concerned.

"Bruce..?"

And then yelps. He was too intent on watching the bat's chest for breathing movements that he did not see the hand by his arm, that yanked the boy to the floor as Bruce smiled at his accomplishment; changing places with Jack within an instant.

Alfred sighs in relief. "Dear, God.."

Bruce stands when he hears the third voice, leaving a stunned man laying on the tile floor, bloody confused. "I'm sorry, Alfred. Did we wake you?"

"Oh. No, Master Wayne… do you need anything?" He shakes the thoughts out of his mind and places the gun back into his holster away from sight.

Bruce looks to Jack—still on the floor—and shakes his head.

"I don't believe so."

"A-Alfred…"

The butler turns to see Jack speaking to him "I'm sorry about the mess, we'll clean it up."

His expression softens. "No worries, Jack. You two just get some rest and we can clean it up in the morning."

The boys shared the same thoughts, and after grabbing their coco they head back upstairs to Wayne's bedroom. Bruce notices the hunger of an oncoming conversation in his old friend's eyes, and once reaching the top of the steps, turns to Jack, handing him his mug of coco.

"Jack, I'll meet you in the room, I'm going to talk with Alfred real quick."

The blond just nods and watches as his friend walks off with the butler, wondering what is going on before heading to the bedroom.

Bruce walks into Alfred's room, and closes the door softly.

"It's alright, Alfred. Jack can't sleep during thunderstorms and I offered to let him stay with me tonight."

"Are you sure that is a wise decision, Master Wayne?"

Bruce crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. "If he really was the Joker, we would have known by now. We would have to rebuild Wayne Manor all over again if he were lying." He can almost feel himself laugh on the inside at the thought.

Alfred sits on the end of his bed, turning on the alarm clock. "This is a very dangerous man, sir. I oblige that you will be cautious. I would not like to wake up and find a bloody heap of a mess in your bedroom tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce forces a smile and moves to leave when a thought rises in his mind. He stops at the doorway, not facing his friend. "But… I trust Jack. It sounds silly, but I believe we can trust him. Goodnight Alfred."

He leaves, shutting the door a little louder than they both expected.

He finds Jack sitting on his bed, tracing the lines around the mug with the tips of his fingers. Jack was very different than what Bruce had expected. The man acted childish this time, without a simple reflection of the Joker in his actions anymore. He was very calm, and somewhat sweet… The sarcastic attitude seemed to disappear.

"Hey…" Bruce begins, striding into his room and plopping himself on the bed as well. "Sorry about that, Alfred just wanted to talk for a second."

Jack's eyes wander around the bubbles in the hot coco. "Why doesn't he trust me?"

Bruce sighs. "He does, he just doesn't like…" _Crap. I can't tell him all of what he used to be, he might remember if I even bring it up. _"B-before… you came to the hospital, you did some very bad things."

"I know. Jimbo spat it all at me."

"Oh…" Bruce exhales a little this time, trying to figure out the right words that would not upset his new friend. "It's just, I'm all Alfred has and he's wanted to protect me since my parents…" He trails off on his own, remembering that terrible night once more.

_Good job, Bruce. It was a long time ago, now you're going to make yourself upset when you're supposed to be helping Jack._

A sudden weight on his shoulder and back robs him of his thoughts, and he looks back to see the younger man leaning against him, sympathizing with the billionaire. At first, Bruce does not know what to do from the small gesture.

The blond curls tickle the base of his neck, and he stiffens to try to avoid the good feeling. _Turn on spot… ugh. _Bruce clenches his teeth between his closed lips, and peers down. The sweet eyes were shut as if Jack was attempting to sleep _on top _of Bruce.

He wraps his open arm around Jack's shoulder, bringing him close. They both try to avoid the other's gaze, and could feel both heartbeats pounding as one.

_Why does this feel so natural?_

"Y-you…"

Jack looks up towards Bruce's chin while the brunet continues. "Should sleep in here if you're still afraid of the thunderstorm." Jack gazes down at his hands as he struggles for an answer.

"Sure…" He attempts a smile, aside from the scars pulling his face into a permanent grin. Bruce neither smiles nor frowns as he let his arm fall from Jack's shoulder and backs away so he can move to the other side of the bed. He is simply letting another man sleep in his bed, nothing else.

"It's pretty late. We should go to sleep."

Jack nods and crawls off of the bed in order to properly get under the silk covers. "Right."

Bruce fixes himself and hides under the sheets, and raises his hands out of the covers to clap his hands. The lights flash off. He can hear Jack giggle, and silently does as well.

"Goodnight."

"Night."

Bruce turns over onto his back as Jack moves the other way, wrapping the blanket around himself to keep warm. The older man closes his eyes, calming his heart rate as he attempts to succumb to a good night's sleep.

He feels a sudden weight change in the mattress and turns over to see Jack staring at him. _Those eyes… _Bruce softens and shifts. "Come here." He holds out his left arm, inviting the blond into his embrace. Thoughts raced through his head as to why he was getting so close to the predator. They held hands earlier in the day, and it was a friendly gesture to show the other person you care.

_Plus, it's still thundering. He could be a little scared…_

Jack hesitates and scoots in till his head rests on the billionaire's shoulder, with the strong arms wrapped around him. He looks up to search Bruce for an answer; his heart-rate accelerating.

They do not dare to look at each other, and gently thanked the early morning for the pitch black darkness. Jack's hands feel the rough, masculine hands lying on top of the billionaire's stomach, and with his smallest finger, taps the thumb a little.

Bruce also thanked the room for being so dark, as he could feel himself smiling. _But why?_

The larger fingers caress the thinner ones, and become intertwined. They held hands earlier in the day when Jack tried to get Bruce to run with him; this time it was different, and they both knew it too.

Slowly, the Joker's hand reaches up to touch the tan cheek, rubbing his thumb over Bruce's lips, and leans in, only inches from his face. The Batman makes no movement or indication of fighting against the gesture. In all of his years, Bruce Wayne has dealt with gorgeous supermodels, lying naked in his bed, and women who loved to throw themselves at him. He had felt real love before in the sweet kiss of his old friend, Rachel.

But her touch was cold, and sent nervous shivers down his body each time they were close. He really loved her.

But as the two stare at each other, none speaking a word, Bruce could feel his heart in the back of his throat, and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He inwardly gasps as Jack moves a bit closer, but does not fight.

Their noses brush together, and Bruce felt that all of Gotham was watching him. Is he even breathing? And as if someone from behind had pushed him, Bruce leaned forward and captured the soft lips in his own.

And the world stops for a very moment.

The Batman is kissing the Joker.


	16. Chapter 15: Livewire

**Moonstruck, Chapter 15: Livewire**

Ah hello there dear readers. You know... I'm not even going to waste time with an intro here. I hope you enjoy this chapter and that you read and review please? :3 I have the next chapter pre-written as well. Scars We Share will be continued after this chapter, Triangle updated as well. Check out my new fiction labeled Evidence No 212, trust me on this one. You will want to read it, just for that impact...

_Disclaimer: Oh, dear lordy if I owned anything..._

***"Hold Me Up" - Live

* * *

Jack was different from the others. Not because he was male, but Bruce felt it like an electric shock throughout his whole body when their lips brushed against each other. The bare, scarred lower lip cradled his own, injecting his nerves with a warm tingle. Bruce Wayne's previous encounters were all the same, almost robotic. Women wanted him because of his wealth and fornication.

Their lips were cold and hidden behind layers of lip gloss and lies. But Jack was the Joker! And a man for that matter. It was wrong, but so right.

Bruce had never felt this way before and prayed for more. He was _alive_.

Their lips part, and as soon as Jack wants to recoil in embarrassment, Bruce's hands find the soft curls and brings the man into another kiss, massaging the lips with his own. Each kiss returns more powerful until Jack runs his warm tongue over the brunet's lower lip as he pleads for entrance.

The bat parts them, allowing the intruding tongue into his mouth. The blond shifts on top of him until they lay side by side, grabbing at each other until they fall into a warm embrace.

No words are spoken but the sleek massaging of each others tongues tangling against each other. Bruce cups the man's chin, lowering the blonde underneath him and breaks off suddenly as he sits up. Jack pushes himself onto his elbows and watches Bruce now that their eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

Outside, they could still hear the pounding, clashing, and showering of the storm performing just for them. And Jack was not scared anymore. Watching Bruce and having him close was all Jack wanted.

Bruce removes his shirt and tosses it across the room, and comes to the younger man. He helps Jack take off his pajama shirt and gently falls back into the feather pillows. He crawls on top of Jack with his legs on either side as if he was riding a horse, and leans in to capture the lips once again.

Over and over their tongues wrestle, with Bruce's fingers intertwined in the blond locks and Jack's strong arms holding him close.

The billionaire feels the scar tissue on the inside of Jack's cheeks from the cuts on either side of his face. Experimenting, he runs his tongue over them as he caresses his thumb over the gentle scars.

It is the only thing left of the Joker, and without the red war paint, the scars are just another part of the man's body. Bruce almost felt sorry for Jack, and the pain he must have endured to obtain them.

He could feel Jack tense underneath him, but he did not refuse the actions. His thumb ran down the scars to his open lips and traced the scar indenting the middle of Jack's bottom lip. Bruce could not help but wonder where he really did get his scars.

_Jack… I can't help this feeling… _

He smiled to himself and broke off to nibble on the wound. A moan escaped Jack's throat, and he curled his fingers around Bruce's shoulder gently scratching. The brunet found his spot by pushing the curls away with his nose and latched onto the exposed skin on Jack's neck. He could hear the blond hiss while he nibbled at the skin.

"God, Bruce…" He muttered, urging the billionaire on even more. The gentle tease turned into bites, and scratches ran down Bruce's back when their hot breath tickled the exposed throats.

And then…

There was a loud knock at the door.

"Master Wayne!"

_Crap! _

Bruce stopped and looked up very upset and interrupted. He wiped the wetness off of his lips and shouted back at the door. "Yes, Alfred?"

Jack sighed and sat up. _But I was having fun… _He pouted.

"Is everything alright?" Came Alfred's voice again.

Bruce stuttered, "Y-yeah… we're watching some TV. I'm sorry if it was too loud." He lied, feeling guilty about lying to his old friend. It was a stupid fib and he knew that Alfred was skeptical. There was a long pause and then they could hear the old man leaving.

"Goodnight, Master Wayne."

Bruce turned back to Jack, who hid under the covers with the bit of his eyes scanning the area. The billionaire sighed to himself and held his head in his hands. "That… was close." He panted out, and Jack uncovered himself and slapped the covers.

"Damn, and we were just getting to the good part."

_At least I can breathe again. _

Bruce jumped a little and then realized how stupid he felt when he saw Jack. _Damn… I almost forgot he was here. _As they stared at each other in the darkness, they could both feel the tension in the air now. The biggest enemies in Gotham just had a ten minute make out session in Bruce Wayne's bed. They sat in silence, listening to the cold rain shower around the penthouse and the occasional clash of thunder.

Both were ashamed. But neither regretted what they did.

The brunet moved back to his spot in bed and rustled himself underneath the heavy blanket again as he tried to avoid the dark eyes following him. He pulled the cover over his shoulder and attempted to forget the past actions. _Jack's probably thinking what a freak I am._

Jack stared at the far wall as his heart-rate caught up with his breath. He sighed quietly to himself and looked over to the resting man. He could feel the slight pounding lowering past his waist and frowned.

_Great. He thinks I'm a freak just like everyone else._

He took a deep breath and fell back into the pillows, feeling somewhat empty.

There was a long silence, and… "Bruce."

The reply was more of a groan than actual words, and Jack continued. "I'm sorry about almost getting you in trouble." He could hear Bruce shifting to turn his way and listen more clearly, and continued. "I know there are a lot of things people aren't telling me, and I think I know why."

Bruce paled. _Oh, shit._

"…You're a really wealthy guy, and if what they're saying is true and that I'm dangerous, I could possibly hurt you."

Bruce sighed in relief. _Okay, so maybe he hasn't figured it out. Whew._

Jack played with his hair, almost upset from missing the feeling of the bats tugging at it. "And I really appreciate what you have been doing for me. Giving me a place to stay, food, TV, just anything."

Bruce intercepted, "It's okay, Jack. I don't mind at all."

Jack turned, "And I'm sorry…"

He leaned over to brush his forehead against the brunet's hair and sighed. "…But I don't want to stop."

The feeling was mutual. After locking the door and turning on some old music, Bruce humbly walked over to the man lying in his bed, and smiled. Alfred was fast asleep by now with his earplugs blocking out the sound from the thunder, and there was nothing they had to worry about anymore. A dim candle in the corner gave them enough light to find each other and Bruce slid into bed. With their hearts on fire and hunger in their eyes, they continued their heretical act in the darkness.

"Come here…" Bruce's low voice called, and slithered over to claim his prize. Jack leaned in with his lips curled up into a shy smile and their lips met once again. It started off slower the second time, enjoying every second of it and the taste of the other's lips. Jack took charge and gently laid the billionaire down into the same comfortable position he had been in earlier.

He let the man lay there, treating him to his own specialty. He dragged his teeth down Bruce's collar, receiving a shiver from underneath him. Jack traced the strong body and scars decorating the tan skin, licking his earlobe. "You will enjoy this…" He whispered, and as he invaded the slack mouth with his hot tongue, a hand snaked its way into the front of Bruce's boxers.

Bruce took a sheer breath inward and buried his face into the side of his pillow, breaking the kiss. The tips of blond hair tickled the side of his neck and could feel the warm breath. They both knew, and both wanted it more than anything in the world; to enhance their bond and hold each other's bare bodies until the morning. Bruce silently gave him permission through a nod and the invading hand in his pants met his thumping member.

The billionaire could hear Jack humming the next track on his radio. He reached his hand up and stroked the blond's cheek.

_Hold me up in the palm of your hand._

The long fingers stroked his shaft gently, rubbing from the base to the head causing Bruce to whimper like a child. The feeling was like no other he had ever felt before. Sure the Bruce Wayne had many sexual encounters in his penthouse but none quite as passionate as this. He wanted more, more…

'_Oh, God…' _Bruce arched his neck, giving Jack permission to hit the spot. The bite was hard, and knew it would result in a rather large bruise after the first act. He withdrew his teeth from the larger man's collar, hovering over the quivering lips. The pleasure was incredible, and it was only the beginning.

Through the candlelight the man up to bat could see Bruce quietly begging for more.

_Lying to you is a river of sin_

The brunet rasped, "I… I've never done this before.."

Jack placed a finger to the pink lips to quiet the man. "Shhh…" He cooed, and suddenly Bruce felt at peace. He leaned in and smiled against the smooth cheek. "It's okay… neither have I."

Their hearts pounded harder with excitement and nervousness. Bruce let his eyes fall closed as he enjoyed Jack jerking him off. His toes curled and clenched his fists against the mattress, giving the blond the impression that he was trying to prevent himself from sinking into the bed much like in one of his favorite horror movies.

The hand around his erection migrated north to tug at the elastic around the waist of his pants. He could feel all of his blood rushing towards his cock and stubbornly waited for the opportune moment to flip the scene.

_Your metaphors, your silent calls_

Jack gasped with his hands in the air like a puppy, and the startled eyes calmed when he found the beautiful face. The words pooled in the back of his throat: the three words he wanted Bruce and the world to hear. Thoughts of nevers and maybes scared him.

Bruce snatched the hovering hands with his and pinned them above Jack's head. With one holding the wrists, he reached into a side drawer on his nightstand. The blind search for a binding failed, and he noticed the restless man underneath him squirming for something, letting out frustrated pants when he failed.

Exasperated, he sighed out. "Use my pants."

_Hmm… now that's clever. _

Jack grasped the iron backboard to give Bruce the freedom to use his own hands, and feeling brace, grazed his lips to an erect nipple. Like a babe, he tugged on it as if searching for a bit of a meal. The blond's eyes shot to the ceiling and he moaned when the nibble roamed down his abdomen and over his navel.

_Your feelings are too real_

In a swift movement, Bruce slipped off the flannel pants to uncover Jack's naked body. He ran his eyes all over the man's body: each scar, freckle, visible blemish and everything that made the man who he was today. His mind returned to the disfigured wounds on the boy's smile…

"It's rude to stare."

Bruce blinked himself out of the trance and smirked, throwing the lone pajamas at Jack's face. "Well excuse me; I was just admiring your '_beauty_.'"

Jack scoffed and tossed the PJs back at the billionaire in protest. Bruce mused to himself, "Now…" He crawled on top of the blond, once again taking his arms hostage. "…_That_ is exactly why I'm tying you up."

"Hmph."

Bruce shot him a look through the dark. "It was _your_ idea." He yanked the pants legs around Jack's wrists to create the same effects of handcuffs and tied them to the bed post, leaving him vulnerable.

_Let them spew, a fall from grace_

Jack fell into a trance, sensing the incredible feeling of their swords crossed, and bucked his hips eagerly against the brunet's cock. He smiled in amusement and prepared himself and his companion for the final act. Fingers slid in between lips, Jack taking the man's hand into his mouth to lubricate them for what was about to come.

The bat moved to the side of his victim and replaced the fingers with his tongue, burrowing deep into Jack's mouth. Tongues battling, he slithered his middle finger into Jack's warm entrance. Bruce could feel a moan rise in the man underneath him and wished to hear his name spoken.

The index finger followed in next. The tight flesh embraced his digits, and Bruce knew that it was going to hurt.

A whimper escaped Jack's throat and he broke off. "Dammit, Bruce… just fuck me." And he could not disagree. He wanted it more than anything in the universe and the words gave him full permission to take over the gorgeous man and make him his. A quiet 'okay' was all he said.

_Would do us good today_

Bruce pushed Jack's knees in opposite direction to invite himself in, and cupped the scarred cheek. His lips tenderly touched the wounds and then sealed off the mouth with his own to kiss him as passionately as he ever had before. Sliding his erection towards the entrance, he could feel it pulsating against the tip of his cock. Making room for himself, he spread Jack's leg to the side, and in one quick thrust, they were one.

_I'll lift you up, we can love or cry_

"Aahn…" Jack strained against the bindings and new feeling inside his body, taking Bruce into him. The pain, he ignored. The throbbing and accelerating heart rate were inevitable, and Bruce was the only person in the world. He locked his legs around Bruce's muscular torso and searched for the lips he missed.

_Hey I'm in love, I'll take you up again_

Bruce raised his hips to buck again, sliding deeper into Jack with each thrust. Their tongues collided again, massaging against each other to create their own rhythm. The music did not exist, and the pounding of their heartbeat together was all they knew.

_Your eyes have too many colors and I can only try_

Bruce spread his legs wider and Jack took his entire length, teasing his prostate. The blond cried out, and could feel himself reaching a climax. "Bruce…" he gasped out. "Harder…"

_Your energy could be running low now_

Jack silently laughed. It was all too new, and neither of them have had previous sexual encounters with the same sex. By all means it was unheard of. They did not care.

The Batman rasped out, beginning to tire.

The blond wrenched his hands free of the useless binding and embraced Bruce immediately around his broad shoulders. He nibbled on the billionaire's bottom lip and found the perfect spot, nuzzling against Bruce's lips. Their voices and cries collided into one, each reaching their climax.

Jack's entire frame shook which each pulsation of ecstasy, the burning sensation grew stronger and stronger and he whimpered into Bruce's shoulder to keep himself from crying out.

With each panting breath, the feeling accelerated and Bruce bit his own lip as he continued, trying not to give in just yet…

"Bru…ce…. It's okay."

_The juice is dry, oh.. oh…_

The head of the pitcher contracted, and released its seed into Jack's body, leaking out of the sides and onto the bed sheets. Bruce moaned loudly, "Jack…"

The blond embraced him tightly and rubbed his back to reward him of the wonderful act. Bruce wheezed into the blond locks as he tried to catch his breath with Jack gently kissing his neck. They each muttered incomprehensible words, collapsing onto one another to catch their breath.

"Oh God…"

"Baby…"

"Shit…"

Jack chuckled gently and led the billionaire to a spot next to him in bed. Bruce shivered from the adrenaline pumping though his veins. _We… we just had sex. Me and the Joker… fuck..._

_...but it felt so incredible._

He looked over to his right and ran his fingers through the sweaty blond hair. "Hey…" he began with a smile. Jack's chocolate eyes were closed in satisfaction and hummed out a response, wondering what Bruce had to say. He moved in against the masculine palm and rubbed his scarred cheek along it.

He cupped the billionaire's chin, rewarding him with a gently kiss.

"We should probably go to sleep soon."

"Yeah…" Jack breathed out.

Bruce turned over to his bedside table and blew out the candle, their only light aside from the occasional clash of lightning in the city. And then…

CRACK!

Bruce jumped suddenly, and saw Jack instantly flailing around his arms at the loud rumble of thunder. He just imagined the expression: clenched jaw, wide eyes, and he would soon be embarrassed. Bruce laughed at his new lover, and rubbed his shoulder.

"It's okay…" he chuckled out.

After changing the sheets and dressing again, the storm let up save for the showers outside. Bruce nuzzled his head into the crook of Jack's neck as they spooned, attempting to finally get some rest. "Hey, Bruce…"

"Mmm?" Came the muffled reply.

"Don't forget this in the morning."

"I won't."

"And promise this won't be awkward?"

"I promise."

Jack smiled to himself as he dozed off. "And Bruce…?"

"Yeah?"

He turned over to face the brunet and stroked his cheek, having trouble finding the words. It pained him, wondering if Bruce felt the same and sighed heavily before whispering, "I love you."

Bruce watched Jack's tensing expression and then he smiled. "I love you too."

For the first time since his parents were killed, Bruce felt complete. There was someone who was genuinely in love with him, not because of his wealth or good looks as he would muse. He was not queer, but none can help who they fall for. _Oh, this is going to be fun to explain to Alfred. _

Jack smiled. "Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Jack."

He kissed his lover on the scarred lip before the blond turned over to sleep when the words of their previous conversation kept ringing in his ears. _I do…_

_I really do…_

_I love you._


	17. Chapter 16: Confinement

**Moonstruck  
Chapter 16: Confinement**

_So I think I lied when I said everything would be uploaded ASAP xD School and work sucks, plus every night I promised myself I'd go home and finish this chapter... It never happened. But I have new ideas, the story is taking another turn as well, so you'll have to wait and see! I know this chapter is slightly shorter, but I did want to keep it a little divided to the story wasn't too rushed. Anyways, enjoy guys! As always, read and review please! :)_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._  
**

_Warning: R. And if homosexual things offend you, I'd advise not to venture any further please._**_  
_**

_And here..._

_We...  
_

_Go!  
_

* * *

The events of the night before were more than enough to keep the Bruce Wayne, AKA Batman at rest. He had made love to the man known as the Joker, and the thoughts of it biting him in the ass possessed his mind. _Do you regret it? No. Do you wish it never happened? I never said that… _

_Do you want it to continue? Um…_

_You said you loved him. That… I did._

His lips pursed into soft mutter and scratched behind his ear. Two brown eyes followed his slumbering actions in amusement. He smiled when Bruce reached out to try and grab something, when he sleepily realized his squeeze toy was gone.

_Where the hell did Jack go?  
_

His question was answered with a high pitched yell of, "Rise and shine!"

_There he is._

He pried his eyes open, slowly focusing on the blond standing before him. "What the hell, Jack… its 8am, I've had 5 hours of sleep…" He groaned as he wiped at his eyes, refusing to greet the brand new day.

"Actually, you've had 4. You sleep-talked for a whole hour last night."

Bruce stared at him, auspiciously. _Oh, crap, try to play it off. _"I didn't say anything weird, did I?"

Jack shrugged, sitting on the foot of the bed. "Nah, mostly just stuff in Klingon."

The brunet stared at him before rolling back over, "Now I know you're fucking with me."

Jack smirked, "Yeah, but I already did that last night."

Grumbling to himself, Bruce pulled the covers over his head. _Why does this always have to come up, its so weird... _He sighed, "So that really happened, huh?"

Brushing off the slight insult, Jack pulled the sheets away from the billionaire's face. "I don't know, you wanna watch me walk?"

_You said it wouldn't be awkward, you prick._

"Do you regret it...?" Jack wondered out loud as Bruce seemingly avoided the blonde as he attempted to fall back asleep. His curious-and somewhat hurt tone stabbed at his heart, turning around to meet the dark eyes boring into him. Slowly pushing himself up onto an elbow, he rested his hand upon the blonde's, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Jack... between the past and the future, I've come to a realization that I do worry too much. You've done nothing to prove me right about any of my suspicions that I used to have towards you. I would have never seen such a beautiful, demented circus without you, and I wouldn't have discovered how good of a kisser you really are." He smirked as he watched Jack's pale cheeks flush.

"So do I regret it? No. Never." Fingers tracing the underneath of Jack's chin, he brought him in to plant his lips upon the boy's.

Taking a minute leap of faith, Jack scooted himself forward to envelop the lips within his own and widened the kiss as he nearly pried the brunet's mouth open, caressing his tongue against the other man's. Bruce took a sheer breath inward as he felt himself getting aroused once more, running his fingertips through the blond curls. Battling against Jack in tongue wrestling sure was a great release.

But he needed it again.

Quickly he pinned Jack against the bed, crawling on top of him to position himself. In between locking their lips together, the boy helped Bruce remove his shirt and release the drawstring on his trousers. Through the thin amount of fabric separating themselves, the batman felt a thumping member tickling his inner thigh, causing the urge and need of Jack surrounding him nigh intolerable.

As if by command, Jack spread his legs on either side of the billionaire, giving him enough room to successfully complete the indeed.

Jack let out a whimper when he felt warm, long fingers trickle down the front of his pants and onto his thriving cock. He arched his back and pulled off his t-shirt, pulling Bruce's face closer to him. "Come on... once more before breakfast."

Bruce pondered the thought quickly, attempting to remember what day it was and what time he would expect Alfred to wake this morning. The tender scarred lip against his tore him from his thoughts, instantly mesmerized by Jack's spell over him. He wrapped his arms around Jack's bare back, running his hands down the curve of his backside, Jack shivering in ecstasy underneath him.

In between gasps and locking their lips together, Jack wheezed out. "Bruce."

Somewhat agitated that the session was instantly interrupted, Bruce looked down at him. "What?"

"I really need a shower..."

The billionaire found himself glaring down at Jack. _You interrupted this and turned me off just to tell me you need a shower? _"Okay, and...?"

Jack propped himself up on his elbows, "Well, clearly you're not getting it. I really need to wash up_. _In the shower."

_Shower? ...Oh._

He pulled the scarred sides of his cheeks into a taught smile, and pounced onto Bruce, pulling him towards with bathroom after locking his teeth onto the brunet's bottom lip. Catching the young man was no sweat, catching the small of his back and holding him up by the thigh. His hot tongue invaded Bruce's mouth, digging deeper and rolling his hips against his waist.

As they struggled into the shower, Bruce pushed Jack against the wall roughly, twisting the water knobs until they groaned to life.

Freezing, cold water sprayed down on them, Jack slightly jumping underneath, and bursting into a fit of laughter. Bruce ignored the cold water, it would get hot in a minute anyways, but the sheer need of Jack's body inviting him in was more than he could process.

His blood boiled to the very tip of his manhood, each lingering second becoming more irritable.

Taking a firm grip and hold onto the muscular torso, Bruce was given the minute to make their bodies one.

Jack shuddered, a moan caught in the back of his throat as the head of Bruce's member teased his entrance. He was about to open his mouth to scold Bruce for the torture when he thrust his hips up, pushing his entire length into Jack. The hot water cascaded down their naked bodies, the blonde pulling at Bruce's dark hair, taking each thrust into his body, building up his orgasm.

"Come on, Bruce... faster."

"I am, shut up..."

They clung to each other's bodies, nearly clawing, holding on for dear life as if the moments after were their last...

He moaned into Bruce's mouth, gently scratching his way up the muscular back. As each buck of the brunet's hips drove him deeper, Jack could feel himself nearing a climax, but no... not yet. Counting the thrusts inside his body, he slipped himself off, turning himself around. He leaned himself against the tile in the shower, peeking sensually over his shoulder.

"Come on, Brucie, I won't break..."

Bruce nodded and placed a hand on his hip, leading himself behind Jack. Inserting his erect, sensitive member back in, he could visibly see Jack shudder under the orgasm.

Only left to concentrating, he pushed harder and deeper each time, snaking his hand around Jack to stroke his throbbing manhood. He fought against the orgasm, breathing becoming quick and he let out a whimper, a cry. The sound nearly drove Bruce over the wall, and could feel the orgasm near its peak.

"Oh, god..." He groaned out, nearly struggling to finish.

The smooth shaft inside of his body, slipping in and out teased him to no end, clenching his teeth and controlling his breathing...the hand gently stroking his was almost too much to bear.

Bruce could almost fall to the ground as he reached the climax, so close, so close...

It was nearly unbearable- the heat, steam, warmth, tingling, aching sensation...

Jack hissed sharply, letting out a small cry, followed by another gasp as he rode the orgasm to its end, trying hard not to give in.

He pumped harder, faster, nearly about to scream out, pushing deep and finishing off for the both of them. He embraced Jack from behind, holding him up as he released.

Jack's frame gave in, nearly collapsing on his own wobbly legs. He leaned against the tile walls for support, sighing in ultimate satisfaction under the warm rain. Bruce finished himself off, groaning into the blond's back.

Holding himself and the heavy man up, Jack turned to plant a wet kiss on Bruce, sealing their lips together.

* * *

**GOTHAM Major Crimes Unit (MCU)  
November 19  
9:45am  
**

"Where is he?"

"Ah, sir, we'd advise you not to..."

Commissioner Gordon pushes past the guards, entering the holding cell area. He holds out a threatening finger, "Any of you even pipsqueak, I'll have you all incarcerated for the rest of your time."

The supervisor unlocks the 400lb door to the interrogation room, admitting James Gordon to face their newest resident-once again. After years on the job, the Commissioner became weary; it's stress taking its toll on the older man. The crows feet began at his eyes, highlighting the gray around his hairline; blaming the new features on Batman and his loyal pack of enemies.

The blue serpent-like irises meeting his own sent nervous shivers down his spine, recognizing that all too familiar glance of Hatred.

"A little early for you today, Commissioner." His words, dripping with poison. "Or were you just excited see me?" The young doctor clearly had been hiding in his own solitary confinement for some time, indicated by his dark rimmed eyes and ash brown hair tickling his collar after months of depriving himself from the city and basic needs. He taps incessantly on the metal table with his untrimmed fingernails and a ball-point pen.

Clearly, he is not phased in the least.

The aging police agent hovers over the desk, shoulders tense and lips pulled taut. "Cut the crap, Crane. Why were you spotted with the Joker?"

Jonathan Crane shrugs, "He took me out and I decided to play along with his little scheme."

"What did you do?" It was not a question, it was an order.

"That's not really anything of a concern right now, James." Clearing his throat, he mockingly smirked to Gordon. "What you should be worried about are his games. He likes to play with people."

Gordon shook his head, clearly becoming more angry and agitated by the second. "Fubushit Even an ape could tell you that."

He raised his eyebrows. "So... where is this Clown you wanted to see? You didn't want to come see me?"

Ignoring the last sentence, he sighed. "He is under house arrest... in a state of amnesic shock."

Crane taps his bottom lip with a pen, "Is he now...?"

The conversation was dying.

"Crane. Why were you seen with him on the twenty-third of September?"

"The guy released me, keys and all. Some of his clowns took us back, when your little buddy showed up. That's all."

Gordon narrowed his eyes, "He didn't have a catche? He just... released you?"

The sarcasm never left his lips, "Just as suddenly as I ended up here."

_It doesn't make any sense. The Joker always has a reason for something, doesn't he? Why would he realease Crane? The man is a genius and a scientist, but what would a psychopathic, sociopathic clown want to do with science fiction? _

_Could it be he just wanted to have enough power against Batman?  
_

_Is he at a weak point?  
_

_Bah...  
_

Gordon stood straight, shaking the morning dew from his hair, clueless.

"...He did hold some interest in my work though."

He glared over at the prisoner behind his hand. "Go. On."

"He was curious about my products." He pipped, taking a sip from a water glass.

He paced around the room, becoming hilariously agitated at the forced complexity of the conversation. "Would it kill you to be more specific?"

Crane shrugged, grinning widely.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

The doctor turned his head, focusing on something else in the room-anything but the Commissioner. "Now if the Joker wanted you to play his little game, he wouldn't divulge everything all at once, would he? Same story... except I'm the genius, he's just crazy." He chuckled, flashing his white teeth. "So, Commissioner..." He downed the last drops of water. "Are you game?"

* * *

**Wayne Penthouse  
December 7th  
5:02PM**

"So... what do you think?"

Bruce popped his pressed white collar to adjust the bow-tie around his muscular neck, checking the angle in the mirror. The blonde sits on the bed, making eye contact through the mirror as he pulls his trousers on. "Spiffy."

Allowing his grin to refresh upon his features, he shook his head at the continuous thought roaming throughout his mind.

_It's barely been three weeks since everything just changed... but yet how come it feels natural now?_

_It's as if I've known him for years.  
_

_And that we've been in love, identical to that of a high school sweeat-heart.  
_

_Joy, Bruce, you've turned yourself into a heart-throb.  
_

"I need to talk to you about something." He turned around, walking through the massive closet to his lover, Jack.

"Shoot."

The billionaire hissed, unsure as to how the blonde would react. "The Commissioner is joining the party for tonight."

Jack tilted his head, expression immediately changed into a disappointed pout. "Jim...?" The word dripped out of his mouth like bile, leaving the scarred bottom lip agape. "Why would you invite _him?" _He shook his head in disgust, returning to his search for makeup products to reapply his clean face.

Bruce leaned against the door frame, "Well... just because we live together and we sleep together doesn't mean that you've gotten off of house arrest. I have no say in the matter, and it's been a while since he last checked up on things. He won't cause any trouble, he just wants to see..."

"...See if I blow up something or stab someone?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Y-yes..." He whispered to himself, suddenly catching himself, "No. Gordon is a family friend, and has been for a long time. I'd appreciate it if you two decided to play nice tonight, seeing as it's the Wayne annual Christmas party... People aren't going to respond too well to a fight if they're too busy drinking booze and eating cookies. Got it?"

Jack kept his monotone voice, "I won't talk to him."

"If that's what it takes, go right ahead."

He scratches his nose, feeling the tingle from being slightly pissed off. "Can I hide?"

Chuckling to himself, Bruce wrapped his arms around the blonde's back, laying his head in the crook of his neck. "Now, I don't think playing hide and seek in the cupboard will be too good of an idea. Hmm?" He placed his warm lips upon the tan skin, giving it a slight nibble. Jack laid his head back, letting out a small moan.

"Bruce... if I get an erection right before I have to show myself in front of these people, what kind of an excuse do I have for that?"

The billionaire smacked his lower abdomen, causing him to flinch. "You'll just have to wait for later, then." He moved back into his closet, choosing a D&G tuxedo.

Jack laughed quietly to himself, pulling a maroon tie around his neck.

"Then let the show begin."

* * *

_Okay that's that for this chapter! Keep me on alert so you know when I update next! (Inspiration is back again) :) I apologize, readers. I love you all!_

_-Ididntdoit07  
_


	18. Chapter 17: The Devil

**Moonstruck  
Chapter 17: The Devil  
**

I decided to change things up a bit, and for the next chapter after this, they are told in the point of views of Bruce Wayne and Jack Napier, to give a fuller understanding of the two and their more intimate lives. What better time than to update around the premier of The Dark Knight Rises! I hope you have your tickets ready-I bought mine two months ago. :X Anyways I hope I didn't worry you all too much, I'm still working on these!

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Nolan franchise or anything affiliated with Batman. I hope I don't have to list out every single party goer as my own._

And here...

_We...  
_

_Go..!  
_

* * *

_Jack's_ POV  
_  
_

**Wayne Penthouse  
December 7th  
9:10PM**

As soon as the first bottle of bubbly was popped, the party started. I stood in the back of the ballroom, become twitchy-anxious.

There they all were in the one place I really did not like. The alcohol flowed freely, dribbling down the beards of so-called gentlemen, when the only thing that held them in the least bit of interest was their bottomless penny purse. The illusion was obvious to any wise man given that he was no blinded by the wealth and stature. It wasn't long before I finally spotted Bruce amongst the guests, making a suave entrance with two whores at his side.

I could retch.

It was sickening- the clamor of the horrid tea party turned upside-down, disguised by the scent of pine and liquor. The real enemies of Gotham City gathered in massive numbers at the Wayne annual Christmas party, re-furbished over the past four years by the heir of the throne- my Bruce Wayne. No doubt -Man in Gotham was the center of the spotlight, beginning his introductions to the guests. He never cared much for the masses or even pleasing the occasional opportunist, hoping to get a small amount of pocket-change from the billionaire- my billionaire. My mind could never forget the night we proclaimed our love for each other, the memory still fresh in my mind.

His touch electrified my skin: it ignited the sensors in my mind and heart.

_Gay._

Was I even gay? I held no other attraction to any other men in my life, or as much as I could remember. The words bounced off of me like a force-field: gay, queer, faggot, homosexual, sinner, none of the words even held a meaning. I love Bruce Wayne. I_ feel _his warmth envelop me, I feel the need to be embracing him with my bare body, assuring him that I was not only there... but that I was not going anywhere.

I watched them from my perch, disgusted with the lot. How the man I had grown to love did this monthly was beyond me. Did it not even cause a flicker of anger and hate in his heart?

So there I stood in the back of the ballroom, drinking to myself in the shadows as I watched my lover parade around the party like the Emperor, arm-in-arm with two supermodels adorning gowns he had purchased for either of them. Hundreds of Gotham's upper class residents flooded my new home, and the only thing I could do was hide and pretend I was just another party-goer. A quite drunk party-goer. Bruce would not approve of the amounts of alcohol in my blood-stream, but hours would go by until we would finally have a moment to even spare to be spotted together. After all... I could be a said 'terrorist'.

Finding the nearest server, I snatched two more glasses of champagne off of the silver tray, downing them both in seconds; the warmth hitting my belly quick. I belched, covering my mouth, earning a stare from an elderly man at a nearby table. He sneered and turned away.

I grinned, setting the remaining glass down to take a break from the incessant bullshit and Christmas music.

Had I known I would have run into _him _I would have jumped off of the balcony long before. Outside on the smoking deck, I caught sight of the greying Commissioner; a halfway smoked cigar lit between his fingers. He was alone... and staring right back at me.

And there he was, sitting his primped bottom in the outdoor patio chair, billowing out a cloud of blue smoke from the lit end in between his fingertips. Though the reflection in his glasses, I could see that his cold gaze never left mine. I could feel it like the cool December air, momentarily stealing my breath away. The hair on my neck stood on end. I almost decided to ram my balled up fist in between those spectacles for putting me through Hell.

...I instantly blamed the alcohol on that morbid thought.

If I so much as looked at him the wrong way, I would be incarcerated against my will...again.

Before I could make a hasty exit disguised by a quick fib, he spoke.

"Pull up a chair, Mr. Napier."

_I'm fucking stuck.  
_

Pulling out one of the iron forged chairs and sitting across from him, I shot him a phony grin-almost as fake as his polite tongue. _Bastard. _Reluctantly and looking for a distraction, I bought time by lighting a cigarette.

The awkward silence between us was far too frightening. I pondered the thought of having a nice meal with the Devil instead, at least he would cut right to the chase.

"Nice night out, isn't it?" He mused, breaking the frozen ice separating us in conversation. Ugh.

I nodded smugly, smoking nearly a quarter of the cigarette in one drag. _Asshole couldn't force me to speak even if I was held in contempt. _

"Jack. Can I call you Jack?"

I snorted, "Not like I have a choice, do I?"

Gordon pulled a taut smile, "I suppose so, then Mr. Napier." He took a drink from his whiskey glass, licking the remains off of his lips. "I... " He cleared his throat.

_This is gonna be good._

"I wanted to apologize to you."

_Wait... what?_

"I jumped to conclusions too rapidly and had many doubts about you. It's been three months, but you havent proved a single thing right yet. Until then, I have no choice but to trust you." He held out an offering hand, waiting for my grasp. I stared at it, then met his sunken gaze.

"If you can trust me then why am I on house arrest?"

_Asshole._

He had no direct answer for my question: but I knew he couldn't just release me without a judge, jury, hearing, whatever, or even another test: I was not anticipating see that man Strange ever again.

"I looked up your file, Jack."

The left side of my brain tinged with excitement, while the right was screaming at him to shut up. "You may have lived in Chicago for the majority of your adult life, but it says you were transferred from Brisbane, Australia when you were nine."

"Oh, bollocks, you caught me." I gave a wry grin, winking to him as well.

James Gordon leaned in closer, coming mere inches from my face.

"Now you listen here, Jack Napier. I will not have you running around my city so long as I can hold off. If you are able to prove me wrong another six months, I will have another evaluation and you could very well be a free man. Until then, I wouldn't do or say anything foolish." His hazel eyes pierced into my soul, and I could only look back.

_So, he was waiting for another test, eh? _

Gathering myself, I stood, looming over him as I felt the fire rushing through my veins and muscles, boiling in my fingertips and back of my throat. The power of it all collected in my balled fist-

-which smashed into the side of James Gordon's mandible, causing the old man to topple over like a heap of bones in an Armani suit.

Igniting the flame that was my stupid ego, I snatched the lapels of his suit, dragging the disoriented man to his feet, and slamming his back against the building.

Trying to fight through the purple spots invading his vision, the Commissioner wearily looked to me though a small spiderweb crack in his frames. Dribble from the impact trailed down his unshaven chin, leaving him in a state of shock that I had struck him. It was the lightning before the thunder, my actions catching up to me in a wave of nausea. Before I could swallow, I released the Commissioner, dropping to my knee and released the burning liquid from my system onto the granite overhand.

I spat into the pile of regurgitated alcohol, wiping my lip as an unseen force knocked me to the side, slamming my skull against the surface.

I wasn't sure if it was the impact or inebriation, but the world around me splotched out until darkness with a hovering familiar husky face over my body.

_Paralyzing cold; bright lights, flashing everywhere, near blinding!__  
_

_There's blood-enough to fill a bathtub!  
_

_Move it, asshole, you're going to bleed to death!  
_

_Searing pain in my mouth.  
_

_Get to the light!  
_

_No... this time it's different.  
_

_There are gunshots. The world tipped upside down.  
_

_And a big, black...  
_

_Jack... Jack...!_

"Jack!"

I pried my eyes open to a bright, celestial halo of light, instantly guarding my eyes from it. The pain rushed in like a freight train, resounding like a roaring thunder impacting my skull. I realized I was lying in something wet. Refusing to listen to the voice in my head, I sat upright-almost falling back down from the vertigo.

"Don't you move again, you're gonna hurt yourself." A voice growled from up above.

Holding my throbbing head, I found myself staring at James Gordon, standing over me with the expression of a disappointed parent. Once my vision finally focused back to a normal state, I searched his face for any markings my fist had left on his body. None: a good sign so far.

He shoved a white wash cloth in my face, "Clean up. You landed in your own vomit."

I reluctantly took the cloth from him, searching my surroundings. He wasn't lying. "I'm sorry, but you rolled into it on your own doing. How's your head?"

"Dandy."

I removed the soiled blazer from myself, tossing it a few feet away. My drunken actions replayed themselves in my head like the touchdowns in a football game. I had struck the Commissioner of Gotham City. And I was lucky not to have woken up in handcuffs. Desperate for an explanation as to why he wasn't carting me back off to Arkham, I pipped up.

"What happened?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Well, you came after me all of a sudden, started to get sick, and looked like you still wanted to advance so I kinda... hit you." Gordon took a seat next me to against the balcony wall, handing me a glass of whiskey. "Drink it, it'll take the edge off." I contemplated the idea of a poisoned glass or that he was just trying to set me up with something, but swallowed the amber liquid, finishing the glass off. The warm tingle soothed my spastic insides, sighing in satisfaction.

Feeling his cold eyes upon myself once more, I kept silent and waited like a child anticipating the strick of punishment from a pissed father.

"You know, it takes a lot of guts to do what you did back there: punching a police Commissioner. That alone could get you a nasty case of assault on an officer, landing you a few terms in prison."

I felt sick again.

_Bruce is going to kill me..._

Biting my lip, I held out my open wrists to him, waiting to be shackled.

Seeing the gesture, he pushed my offering hands away. I searched his face for an answer.

He simply handed me my pack of cigarettes and a match, which I quickly light between my lips. "You're not going to arrest me?" I mumbled through the blue smoke. Gordon glanced over, not even showing a single sign of emotion.

"No. I left my handcuffs at the station."

He must have spotted my clueless expression, causing him to chuckle softly. Suddenly... I felt at ease.

"I have only one rule: No arrests during the time of our Lord."

_But it's... whatever._

"...And I suppose I deserved that hit a little, after treating you how I did.

_He mean's he's sorry...aw._

"And plus, I don't think Mr. Wayne would like it too much if I arrested his lovebird at his holiday party, eh?"

Where was the goddamn trash bin? "What did you say?"

He took the empty glass from my hands.

"Jack... I spotted you two before the party began tonight. In the hallway..." He insinuated, the memory jolting me awake as if I had been tasered. The blood drained from my face, heart increasing its pace. My mouth felt like it were stuck in an open vice, preventing me from speaking. "I'd advise you two to keep things underwrapped for a while; you might give Alfred a heart attack, the poor bastard..."

I could only sit in silence, staring at the dying cigarette in my hand. Denying it would only make it worse, and I couldn't afford that at this point.

"Don't..." I felt lost in my own words. "Don't tell anyone."

He placed a wrinkly hand on my knee, "Jack, Bruce Wayne has been under my wing for quite some time now, and blackmailing him is not something I would like to do anytime soon. Are we clear?"

I could only nod to him, "Thank you..."

He grumbled to himself, "I have to admit something though. I didn't see anything, but I did have my suspicions."

Gawking, I felt betrayted, but also relieved at the honest I was suddenly relieved. Sighing in content, I took another long drag off of the cigarette. I let the old man continue. "I did mean what I said to you, though. If I ever feel threatened by you, I will not hesitate to take any action. I've been protecting Mr. Wayne since he lost his parents, and I don't plan on losing him either. And..." He squirmed around, digging his his pockets for something, finally revealing a crumpled up receipt.

"...And I also wanted to ask your permission in locating your past in Brisbane. I would only have Wayne and I visit your hometown, looking for answers that could benefit the lot of us."

"You're going to Australia?"

He nodded, taking the address written in my hands. "Whether or not you want to hear it, you're still going to face the Judge in a few short months, and I do not wish to see a seemingly innocent man placed behind bars."

James Gordon explained everything I wanted to hear and know. Upon hearing his wishes and determining they were genuine, I gave him permission to look up my past- I wanted to know. And I knew deep inside that he would never be the one to betray a friend. Finally set upon an accord, we downed two more shots each, shoot hands, and parted ways.

If I had known what was in store for me next, I would have rather preferred being dragged out of the Penthouse in handcuffs.

* * *

Bruce Wayne's side of the party, next! I hope you all are going to see TDKR, as I am this night at midnight! I was going to place the two in a single chapter, but its late... and I wanted to give you a present for the occasion! R&R~

Ididntdoit07


	19. Chapter 18: The Deep Blue Sea

**Moonstruck**  
**Chapter 18: The Deep Blue Sea  
**_  
This chapter is a little half and half torn between Bruce and Jack and their remaining adventures at the Wayne Annual Christmas party. This is my little present to you, updating twice in 24 hours for the celebration of Nolan's final installment of the Dark Knight series opening tonight at midnight! I would expect to see a lot more action coming from me. Hopefully this will spark some more inspiration! As always, tell me what you think and also what you thought of the movie!  
_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for Mary, and she really isn't that annoying.**  
_

_And here...  
_

_We...  
_

_Go!  
_

* * *

_Bruce's POV_

The night would be full of surprises as I would soon learn; the first was the Mayor who decided to come crashing the party. He turned up on the doorstep, Alfred fetching me from a few interested realtors, once I would move back to Wayne Manor. One month into packing all the boxes to and from the manor, the house hunters gathered like hyenas around the idea that I was going to sell the Penthouse. I only chuckled politely and made a small joke before greeting Garcia.

He was dressed in Gucci, already downing a glass of white whine. Upon spotting myself, clad in Dolce and Gabbana, he greeted me with open arms.

"There's the star of the party!" I gave him a small pat on the shoulder, smelling the tainted breath.

_Well, there's one way to start out the night early._

Anthony Garcia turned to his brunette wife; I instantly noticed the curvature protruding from her red evening gown in her midsection. The plunging neckline was far too revealing for a brooding woman, accentuating her full breasts-ready to pop from their hiding spot.

"Mary, I don't believe you've had the honor to meet Bruce Wayne and his interests in keeping the city clean." He grinned, eyes twinkling, presenting his under dressed wife to me. Mary Rose shook my offering hand, her lips glittering in the chandeliers

I smile back to her, nodding in a false sense of approval.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary. And congratulations!" I exclaimed, seeing the Mayor hold her from behind, hands migrating over her bump.

She laughed, quietly scolding him. "My apologies, Mr. Wayne, my husband is rather excited about the news."

Scoffing playfully, I waved it off. "I understand."

We sat down at a round table, served another glass of Champagne, Mary having a ginger tea. Anthony downed glass after glass of alcohol, slurring his words slightly. "Now, what the people of Gotham do not understand in these times, is that the crime still exists. They've become blinded by the idea of the Joker being gone. What are we going to do if another enemy shows up?"

Mary rubbed her husband's arm, trying to calm the hot nerves in his body. "Tony, we are at a wonderful festivity, could you please let your worries slide? It's the holidays, baby..." She cooed.

I mentally begged him to continue.

"What do you think, Wayne?"

I cleared my throat, pulling dead skin off of my lip. "What about the man in the mask?"

Garcia almost choked on his drink, coughing. The brunette rolled her eyes, patting his back. She mouthed 'I'm sorry' to me. I shook it off with a smile. The Mayor might not have been a great role model, but he-like myself had the safety of Gotham set into his mind, the ideas of losing it once again haunting him over and over. My alter-ego, the Caped Crusader had not shown his colors in months of hiding, never to be called on again by the Commissioner, and ostracized by the very man who sat two feet away from me.

_Admit it, Bruce. You miss those nights. _

_The adrenaline rush of the freefall.  
_

_The air whisking you away for a ride.  
_

_Delivering peace to Gotham...  
_

"You mean... Batman, right?"

I shrugged in reply. _Remember Wayne, you're not a full supporter of Batman. _"It's been months since anyone has seen him on the streets. Maybe he will return in case of another threat?"

The Mayor let the words sink in. Stroking his chin, his voice dropped an octave, suddenly sobering up. "We hunted him. He is a wanted felon, responsible for the deaths of my officers. Even if I raised the white flag, inviting him back, what makes you think he will be so accepting of a new offer? We have _turned _on the man who has always protected our city. Why would he help when we ask of it again?"

_It was true._

_They never deserved another penny from me.  
_

_I did not need to pummel the brains out of robbers for Gotham.  
_

_I had spend the last few years of my life sacrificing my time and possible cover as Bruce Wayne to run around in a cape and mask, throwing people in the line of fire if I were to ever be unmasked. Alfred would be named as an assistant, Gordon would surely be jailed as well for obstruction of justice, and Jack... God, if Jack ever remembered his past, we would be facing the Joker's games once again... only after he would have discovered my alter-ego.  
_

_Exactly what he would want.  
_

_Batman was no longer a hero, but a new villain.  
_

I wanted to shout to him, ripping off my clothing like Clark Kent, brandishing the Bat upon my chest piece. _No. _

"I believe everyone living in this world deserves a second chance. Why would I dismiss the possibility of Batman returning to our aid? He might still be a hero."

The Mayor scoffed to himself. I could tell he's had too much to drink, but he continued to mumble until they formed words upon his sour lips. "What about this Jack Napier guy... The Joker. He still staying with you?" The accentuation on my lover's name spat nails at me, my body temperature soaring.

_Don't you dare say his name again._

"Yes, he is. He's somewhere..." I looked around, pretending to be nonchalant and uncaring. "...Around here."

"Well, Bruce. Do you think he deserves a second chance?" It was the first time I saw him frowning at me, his wife chastising him and trying to remove the glass from his hands. A few more minutes with him and she would be tossing her glass of tea on his face. Only after I had beaten his face in.

"Why would he not deserve a second chance?" I cleared my throat, gazing around for Jack, but no avail. "How many people have had a second chance in this world? Just look at the Falcones, even after the drug bust and plan to thwart my mansion, he's still walking around a free man. Casey Anthony was accused and even proven to have murdered her own child and she's being treated like a princess. Any celebrity with multiple DUIs are still doing the same thing, and they have all had their share of passes from the Judge. So why not Jack Napier?"

The words absorbed in his tainted brain, "You forget the Joker mauled dozens of people including Loeb and several soldiers!"

The words could not stay behind my teeth or tight lips anymore. "And so did Batman, but you're quick to re-invite him back into your city the minute you need him. The Joker stood for something more than anarchy in this city. You may not realize it, Mayor, but his ideas are far more advance than you or I, and he stands for something more than just a carved face and burning pile of dollar bills. He actually..." I trailed off, realizing I was quickly becoming a red flag in the Mayor's eyes.

Disguising my nervousness, I cleared my throat. "He's just waiting for his next trial, and then you can judge him for who or what he is."

_At least he's drunk. The likeliness of remembering this conversation is slim. Ha. _

I spotted Alfred strutting towards me, urgency showing in his poker face. I nodded to Garcia and his wife, "If you could please excuse me, I hope you both have a wonderful night." Kissing the top of her hand, I gave a genuine smile. "Merry Christmas."

Alfred met me halfway through the sea of suits and gowns, his white gloved hands holding a silver platter.

"What is it?"

He leaned into the crook of my neck to whisper, "I believe it would be best if we cut off our newest resident from the bar."

"Cut off?" _...Oh._

I looked up, scanning the crowd. "Where is he?"

"I believe I spotted Cinderella on the balcony." He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. "A quarter past nine and he already sees it fit to call it a night. Should I...?"

"No, Alfred. I can take him up." Sighing, I wondered what kind of damage a drunken, amnesiac Joker would do at a holiday party held by his worst enemy. I could only imagine a Dark Knight before Christmas, chasing the Joker in a Santa suit up the chimney in the Gotham night.

Parting through the sea of people, I stepped outside to the cool December air, the crisp oxygen filling my insides with a bit of relief. I turned around the corner to look for Jack when something collided with myself.

"Whoa."

I found myself staring into the hazel eyes of Commissioner Gordon, who reeked of pipe tobacco.

"Oh, uh, good evening Bruce. Merry Christmas." He smiled, which was almost never good.

_Good God, he's drunk too._

_Am I the only sober one here?  
_

"Commissioner, is everything alright?"

He adjusted the glasses upon his face, avoiding my full gaze. From the profile of his face against the dark night outside, I noticed the swollen side of his left jawline, slowly taking upon a violet hue through the graying hair in his beard. Gordon smiled at me, patting my shoulder as he passed by. "That kid you're taking care of... he's got nasty right hook."

He stopped forcefully after my hand smacked his chest, preventing him from venturing back inside the party. I examined the wound as he allowed me to turn his face. A little blood from a ring grazing his skin, the edge of his lip swelling with white blood cells. _God, Jack... what the hell did you do? S_wallowing the lump in my throat, I sighed. "Jack did this...?"

_Please say no. _

_At least lie about it.  
_

"I said some things I shouldn't have. I think I might have hurt him a little more than just a little knock on the face."

_Uh-oh._

I shook my head, rubbing my temples. "Is everything alright?" I felt embarrassed to even look my old friend in the eye. Jack had struck him, and I was lucky not to see a group of the feds taking him out in handcuffs, especially in the middle of my Christmas party. _Jesus, Jack. Why now? _

The older man slapped his hand on my shoulder, squeezing softly. "We had a nice talk, and I excused him from his actions as did he." He looked around as if to tell me a secret. "I would be careful with your boyfriend, Wayne, he's got quite a kick to him if you know what I mean."

_My boyfriend?_

_Play it off!_

I laughed in response... and trailed off when I noticed he was not laughing either. I hung my head low. "Did he tell you?"

Shaking his head, he smiled to me, sullen and peaceful much like my father. "I fished it out of him. I'm sorry, Bruce. I just want you to be careful with your wild child."

Having nothing left to say to me, my old friend James Gordon exited the party with his best wishes for myself and my _boyfriend. _I became giddy with the idea. How was everything falling together so easily, and even the Commissioner admitted he was watching over us both. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. Grinning from ear to ear, I searched for my supposed drunk lover.

* * *

"Jack?"

I did not want to be disturbed at any point in that moment, but the soothing voice, like honey, released me from my intoxicated trance state. My vision only allowed me to see in double, my prince standing over me in the moonlight. Annoyingly, I could not harness the power inside myself to speak.

Mustering all of my strength, I forced a nod, almost losing my balance from sitting cross-legged on the balcony floor. His strong palms prevented me from falling flat on my face, pushing me back into an upright sitting position. He shook his head.

"How much did you drink?"

By the sound of his voice, he was not angry-more curious as to how I got this drunk in as little time as I did. My head throbbed. I felt ill and dizzy. Oh god.

"Plenty." was the only word I could manage out of my rubbery lips at this point.

He laughed at me.

Talking me through the drunken slander that poured out of my mouth, he somehow managed to stand me on my feet. I leaned on his shoulder, arm wrapped around his waist and another swinging around my empty bottle of water. I moaned into his jacket, "I'm sorry I'm a party pooperrr..."

Bruce was rolling his eyes at me, but I trusted him enough to take me to bed through the festivities. He was not upset, and I thanked Gordon for speaking with him as well. Maybe Gordon isn't such a bad guy...

I walked four steps before I lost my balance and fell into the side of the outside wall. He released his grip on me, allowing my body to slide down the slick surface to the floor again.

I could almost cry. "I'm drunk, Bruce..."

He leaned down again, laughing. This was all entertaining to him. "No shit. You're completely plastered."

"So are youuu!"

_Jesus, Jack. You sound like a drunk teenage girl. _

_Stop it before you cause any more damage.  
_

"No, Jack, I'm not drunk. I had two glasses of champagne and I don't plan on drowning in my own intoxicated stupor. Come on, get up." He yanked me to my feet once again. "We gotta make it through this labyrinth up to your bedroom. Think you can walk?"

_Hell no._

"In a minute..."

His sparkling brown eyes met mine, warming my heart with urges and the need to have his body against mine tonight. I lazily draped my arm over his shoulder and back, glancing over his shoulder to confirm that we were alone. "I lobee you..." Bruce traced his hand up my back, another pushing away the curls from my face.

"And I love you."

I pushed myself forward, meeting him halfway to lock our lips together, beginning a little sloppy game of tonsil hockey. He giggled in my mouth; I smiled against his lips and tongue, pulling him closer into my body. _I need you and your body on top of me right now. _The urgency of the need for sex was overwhelming my senses, always wanting a little series of a drunken night together.

From over his shoulder in my peripheral vision, I spotted another body come into my visionary, blurry, frame.

_Come on, Gordon, stop being a pervert..._

That's when I noticed the white hair and glint of silver.

My heart lept in my chest, almost feeling as if I were going to throw it up and pushed Bruce away, breaking off our make out session.

A crash echoed within the night, glass shattering upon the marble floor.

Bruce shook out of a lust driven trance, following the sound of the crash. He froze in place, as I almost blacked out- the migraine making its ever familiar return to my senses. I wanted to reach out to my lover_; _my mind screamed at me. I could only watch the expression melt from his face, a cold sweat breaking upon his forehead as he stared out at his oldest friend, knowing the nights events had taken a turn for the worst.

I wanted to disappear, or die.

Bruce Wayne staggered on his feet, his voice caught in his throat.

"Alfred..."


	20. Chapter 20: Boundaries

**Moonstruck**

**Chapter 19: Boundaries **

Hello dear readers, terribly sorry for the absence. If you know me by reading SWS (another Batman Joker story) Then you may know that I lost all the prewritten documents… le sigh. I have bad luck with my fanfiction files. Oh well, this one took quite a bit to write and a little imagination.. I hadn't planned this chapter. I hope you all enjoy and give me input about what you like! Pay attention to detail, children… you'll be happy you did

Disclaimer: I guess I only own some of the goons, though they don't cause much harm in this chapter. Dark Knight universe belongs to Christopher Nolan.

_And here… _

_We…_

_Go!_

* * *

**The Grin and Bear It Club  
Lower East Side  
10:00PM**

Frost shivered against the cold nipping at his bare face, blowing into his hands to keep them warm. The weather at Gotham had always been a carnival ride, always unsure as to the upcoming week's climate. Another snowfall had rendered the streets inoperable and slick, pipelines freezing on the lower east side—cutting off heat to the Grin and Bear It.

He tosses the weak cigarette to the icy ground, pulling the heavy wooden door open to the back entrance of the club. They crowded around the fabricated fireplace of newspapers, cardboard, liquor, candles—anything to keep them alive through the near 20 degrees F air. Taking his place between two of his comrades, he steps into the chattery conversation amongst the goons.

"I'm so f-fucking tired of this, man. Where we gonna go for it, huh?" The Boston man rubbed his palms together. "I-I can't live like this through March. Without heat and food, we gonna die." He peeks his mouse brown eyes through the blue scarf covering his face, looking for any reaction or agreement.

A burly redhead grinned, "You never been homeless before, have ya?"

The Boston shook his head, chops jiggling behind his goatee. "All I'm sayin' is, why don't we do somethin' about it, ya know? Instead of jus' boozing around and takin a little pocket money, eh?"

The dark man from upstate cleared his throat, "He's right. We only got about a grand a piece, most of it already gone."

Monty stood in the back, eavesdropping as he peeled a few pistachios from their shells.

"Fuck, man. I'm tired of this waiting shit. When we actually gonna get shit done? Prove to the Commissioner guy we got more bite, even without the Joker."

"Just be patient…" The low voice tore their attention from the fireplace, "I have a little plan, and you'll see it come the birth of the son." Monty laughed, pointing to the pine tree—rotting, in the back of the room.

* * *

**Wayne Penthouse  
10:20PM**

"Alfred…"

Pulse beating heavily in his chest and neck, a cold sweat breaking out upon his forehead and hairline, the name of his oldest friend dripped off of his lips as if he had just drank a vial of poison. Trembling, the old man searched for any distraction, attempting to pick up the silver platter.

The billionaire's gut instinct forced him forward as he struggled to help the butler. Alfred shook his head, hoping to shake the image from his mind.

_Bruce… _

_And Jack… Together._

"Alfred, please, stop…" Bruce wrestled the pan from the gloved hands, immersing his eyes within the faded blue gaze.

"I'm sorry, Master Wayne…"

Shakily, he laid a hand on the young master's shoulder for support, pulling himself up. It was not the look in his eyes or the fact that he had just caught them making out, but the disconnected, hurt tone in his voice. Alfred Pennyworth flashed him a small, obviously fake smile before brushing off his trousers and re-entering the party.

Bruce watched him until he disappeared into the gathering once more, spotting the Commissioner peeking his head out of the French doors, having heard the small commotion. The past thirty seconds replayed over and over in his mind, leaving himself a shell full of pent up, unorganized emotions.

_Alfred…_

_Alfred!_

The blond slumped against the wall, refusing to open his eyes to the previous turn of events—ashamed, that he was now the reason Bruce Wayne and his oldest friend, Alfred Pennyworth may split ways. He heard the shuffling of feet, and upon opening his hazy eyes, both parties had vanished back into the penthouse.

Within moments, Jim Gordon had come to assist the drunkard.

"Are you alright?"

"Nehh…"

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Migraine."

_That… and I hope I didn't just kill the old fart. _

_Ugh._

He runs his hands over his temples, his pained body catching up to the throbbing of his head as he groaned. It came in small waves, still in its first stage, a step away from temporarily blindness and nausea. His racing thoughts pushed through the flurried influx of new images and noises, trying to make sense of the somewhat… disturbing and frightening images flew into his vision.

The world was liquefying before his chocolate eyes, words and numbers morphing together into a singular swirling vortex of the balcony and Gotham skyscrapers, Gordon's waving hand transforming into lengthy tendrils becoming victim to the whirling madness the headache created.

"Dammit…"

Gordon was leaning down to eye level. "Do you have anything I can get you for it?"

"Pills." His voice sounded weak and annoyed. "In my room…"

"Painkillers?"

A nod.

The Commissioner returned moments later with the orange tube of discus white pills, tossing them into Jack's lap. "You know, I'm not so sure painkillers and alcohol make a good combination…"

The tablets first layers sizzled upon his tongue, instantly bringing a rush of soothing, cool relief to his throbbing head. He shrugged, "I'm not too concerned." He shook the bottle, rattling with a few remaining pieces. "You think you guys could hook me up with more of this stuff?"

Gordon took up the offered pill container again, reading the label: Oxycodone. "I'm sure I could figure out something, don't take any more than needed."

"Thanks, mom." Jack muttered, lighting a cigarette to level out his mind. He blew out a cloud of blue smoke in a heavy sigh. "I hope Alfred's alright…"

* * *

"Alfred!"

He wanted to ignore the voice calling out for him, knowing his silly, stupid, young master was chasing right after him. Calmly weaving himself through guests, he laid the soiled tray upon the kitchen ottoman, sucking in a deep breath of air. The image had been burned into his memory by now, replaying itself over in his mind.

_Batman and the Joker…_

_Bruce and Jack! _

_They… they—_

"Alfred!"

He could feel his blood become arid, dizzy from the soaring pressure building up in his veins and conscious. The old butler squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to let out a decade of pent up emotions. Pulling his bottom lip taut he began to peel off the white gloves, unable to force the image—now burned, out of his mind. As much as it was fair to run away from his young master, for all of the times Bruce had run away from his problems, he planted his feet into the hardwood floor and turned to face the billionaire.

He peeked his head around the kitchen to confirm that they were alone; he was not making that mistake again. The words pooled upon the tip of his tongue wanting to force themselves out of his sealed lips.

_I love him, Alfred_

_I know who he used to be, but he's different!_

_No… what about…_

_Alfred, he's just drunk—ugh. I can't lie to him._

In between his own mental debate and rehearsing possible excuses as to why the butler had found them swapping saliva, the old man let a genuine smile tug at the corners of his lips.

"You've always started to twitch your nose whenever you are confronted, Master Wayne."

He shot the Brit a doe-eyed look. The all familiar strange silence veiled over their possible conversation once more; Bruce cursed at himself over and over again. His body quavered under the words he knew were going to come spilling out of his mouth, inhaled a deep breath and reluctantly looked into the light sapphire eyes. "We're… sleeping together… Alfred."

"I know that, Master Wayne. He has spent the night in your room-"

"I've made love to him."

Bruce knew the old man did not want to hear about his young master's love life or who or what he had dipped his wick in, but as soon as he got the hardest words out, he rambled beginning to stride around the kitchen. "I've had sex with him multiple times. I've held him, I've kissed him, I told him I love him… I do love him for who he is, not what he's been in the past."

Alfred said nothing.

"…I've seen him for who he really is. He hasn't given us any reason not to trust him. Yeah, he might be fresh and green sometimes to everything, but that's how he's been treated so far. I've given him freedom and he's… he's given me, mine." Bruce shrugged showing off a half smile in hope for his old friend.

The butler shifted on his feet, "Well, I guess my suspicions have been confirmed. I apologize… it's come as quite an immediate shock."

He let his brown eyes fall to the floor, "I know what I'm risking and I haven't forgotten who he could turn back to in any minute. I trust him… Jack.. Jack wouldn't hurt me and he wouldn't dare try to hurt you. There's…" he trailed off, voice shaking.

"_You cannot help who you love or what people you find yourself holding onto the tightest. To feel shame for who you fall for is the epitome of a jailed mind. To love is simply a gift and should never be gazed back upon even in the most severe situations."_

The butler sighed as he recalled the words he had heard as a young adult. He struggled to recall the times and the ages he had experienced along the way and his own exploration of the human sex. There had been plenty of young girls in his past, most of them family friends or neighbors that the parents wanted to arrange. There was one different…

The memory twinged in his heart, his lips began to spill, "There was once a man, Bruce… a poet, who had such a way with his words that it entranced who had the pleasure of meeting him."

Bruce mentally begged the old man to continue.

"He claimed that love, no matter the boundaries and differences, is still after all… something you cannot choose. I met him when I was seventeen years old." He paused to chuckle and lighten up the conversation, smiling at Bruce. "Hard to believe I was ever that young. He showed me… many things."

_He could see the hazel eyes staring back at him behind a curtain of unkempt, previously gelled hair that flipped out at the nape of his neck, his sea-shell patterned shirt open at the lightly tanned chest. His suspenders lay limp around his waist as he buttoned up the front of his beige slacks. He winked and flashed a white grin over at a young Alfred Pennyworth as he lit a cigarette. _

"_Where are you going?"_

"_Where am I not going?" The American searched around the room for his bag._

_Alfred leaned over the bed stand to grab his glasses. "Off to explore another adventure?"_

"_Every day is an adventure!" He hooked the strap of his satchel around his shoulders and walked over to the bedside to hover over the young Alfred Pennyworth. "Love openly, share everything, take every chance, and never look back…"_

"What happened to him?"

Alfred cursed at himself for not even recalling the beautiful blond American's name and sighed, "I had seen him twice. Once when we spent the night together, and the second time I saw him his picture was on the unidentified list of the Cold War."

He backed himself away slightly, unhinged and feeling disconnected once again from his oldest friend and lasting family member. "Oh..." He looked to the floor in respect for the deceased.

"…The point being, Master Wayne, I do not care which ever you prefer, you like men or you like women. I frankly do not understand why you prefer the most dangerous man in Gotham." He hissed the last words quietly, reassuring himself with a glance around the room.

Bruce drew in a breath, holding it in.

_It's because I've always liked him!_

_Wait, huh? What? _

_I… No. No, Bruce, you don't like the Joker… you love the man behind the makeup._

"What would you do if his memory ever returned, Bruce? If he ever went back to being the monster?"

The words felt like the daggers of a blow he had been avoiding for months, finally piercing into his dense, thick hide. The thoughts had plagued his mind since the day he had first met Jack, pretending as if the illness was incurable, if it even was an illness. More of a complete stabilizer…

"I hope he never does."

"Yes, sir… do you understand the risks you are taking, Bruce? How long do you think you can hide the mask from him? Anyone would find out given the amount of time, here."

As if an atom had just been split, Bruce snapped at the drop of a coin. "I can't explain it, Alfred! I know who he is fully capable of being, and I hope to god he never finds out about my night job. The hero hasn't showed his face in months, Alfred, and I believe that won't change anytime soon… We're running away from the only thing we've ever known and… as crazy as it is, he's made me feel more real and human than myself." He bounced on his heels nervously, "I'm finally happy, Alfred… if you don't like it, we'll leave the place to you."

"You would give up Wayne for Jack?"

He barely hesitated. "Yes. I guess I'll go tell him."

Alfred swooned at the cold words, severely misunderstood. The billionaire stepped out the door. "Bruce! I don't want you to go anywhere."

They eyes met in a gaze, settling a white flag. "If he makes you happy, I don't want him to go anywhere either."

* * *

**1:03AM**

The guests had been ushered out of the Penthouse as soon as the moon crossed over the center of the sky, most taxis in Gotham choosing the squares around the building as a brilliant form of income due to all of the alcohol and booze rushing through the majority of the peoples' systems. The servants and workers cleaned up the last bit of hors d'oeuvres and soiled plates, finishing their shift as quickly as possible.

Alfred had returned to his own suite, knocking himself out for a much needed resting period, Bruce Wayne coming into his bedroom… incredibly relieved to find the other man curled up under his sheets.

He shed his clothing as he sauntered into the room, tossing his suit upon a lazyboy, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers. Jack's eyes were closed in a peaceful, slumbering state, though Bruce knew he was a rather light sleeper. Kneeling down, he brushed a few stray blond curls away from the tender face, leaning in to kiss the soft lips.

_Oh, hello. _

_Too anxious to wake me up, huh? _

Jack pulled himself out of the darkness of sleep, Bruce noting his consciousness waking as his hand was claimed. He tangled his fingers within the blond locks.

He drew in a sharp breath, cut off by his own sigh of satisfaction as he pressed his lips to the brunettes, caressing the side of his cheek and neck. Bruce broke off with a smile, and lazily crawled over Jack to his side of the bed, collapsing in defeat of the day's events. The mattress shook as Jack laid on his belly, dragging himself over to the billionaire.

He gripped the older man's hand, squeezing it and laid his head upon the sculpted chest.

Bruce drew the edges of his lips into a content smile, running his left arm down Jack's sides and finding a resting place on his stomach.

"Will everything be okay now?" Jack muttered, nearly falling back asleep.

Bruce nodded, "I believe so."

Jack shifted his weight, nearly laying on the billionaire's chest and leaned in to kiss him one more time.

Hissing out of surprise, Bruce found himself becoming rigid once Jack's warm tongue slid in between his lips. _Oh, God… _He parted his lips, allowing the blonde to explore his body deeper. He pushed back with his tongue, cradling the back of Jack's head and tangled his fingers within the dirty blonde locks. A small moan escaped from the younger male, who had already found the way into Bruce's shirt.

Gently fingers tickled his sides, finger pads pressing against the small of his back. Bruce helped him remove the tee shirt he wore, tossing it across the room, taking off his own until their bare chests collided.

"Mmm… Jack."

"What?"

Bruce shook his head in utter defeat, covering his eyes with the sweaty palms of his hands. "I'm sorry, I can't do this right now…"

The blond sat up straight as the words halted him and the blood boiling in his body. His lips still felt numb, words having trouble forming on them. "What do you mean?"

"I think Alfred can hear us…"

He rolled his brown eyes, falling back next to Bruce, exasperated. "Yeah I'm not in the mood anymore anyways."

_Well, great. He's pissed off again. _

_What do you do now, just go to sleep?_

The billionaire's throbbing member pulsed in protest against the interrupted pre-copulation, he squished his face up in a prominent frown, shifting his legs to rid himself of the annoying, now useless erection. Jack was turned away from him, probably already passed out by now from all of the alcohol settling in his bloodstream, the medication shutting his body down as the moments lingered.

Wrapping his arms around Jack's shoulders and leaning into the nape of blond curls, he felt the younger man sigh. "Tonight's been a little bit of hell, I don't wanna shock Alfred and then kill him all in one night, just for right now, okay?"

Jack groaned in response.

He rubbed his palm in circles upon Jack's tanned chest, planting his lips upon the bare skin of his collar. "We'll go on a trip."

_That got his attention._

"I'm on house arrest, dick…"

…_Maybe not so much._

Bruce kept his arms tight around the blonde, squeezing him in reassurance. "You forget that we have nothing to worry about anymore. I'm sure the Commissioner would be alright with it so long as I told him."

Jack sighed, his exhaustion weighing down his enthusiastic response. "Yeah sure, where're ya gonna take me, Paris?"

He rolled the sobering blond over, hovering over the scarred lips and heavy gaze. "Do you want to go to Paris?"

Relief washed over his jittery nerves when he felt Jack's touch once again upon his warm body, allowing him to explore the perfectly sculpted muscles and every inch upon his skin. The corners of the scarred lips twitched into a sensual grin; he pushed himself up on his elbows, crashing Bruce's lips into his own.

Before Bruce could even react or tangle his fingers within the cascades of blond curls, Jack drew back leaving the tang and tingle upon the slack lower lip.

"Wherever you are, is wherever I want to be."

The Joker may have been completely absent from Jack Napier's memory, though Bruce noted how good he was at playing head games with or without the mask. He knew his ingenuity very well, using his manipulative gifts and moonstruck glimmer in his eyes to draw in the pink lips and large hands that soon caressed his entire body. Clothes strung out over the floor, their breaths colliding as one…

Needless to say, the television was turned up rather loud that night…

* * *

_God that chapter was incredibly difficult to write and rather stressful. At least that parts over and we get to see a little side of Alfred that you thought would never dare come up! I always used to think that Michael Caine would play some gay character aside from miss congeniality, he just seems like the kind of person! Next up is a little Christmas celebration, which will take the story for another crazy turn of events so I hope you're excited!_

_As always, please tell me what you think and what you would like to see. I have already made changes to the story because of some reviews, and I hope you haven't lost complete faith in me! I love you all. _


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